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iiji U i4 vi' kJ I »Li 1 V JLJ . i 1 


^’■^"5 1 OQ 

V iuO* 



BY EDWAED S. ELLIS. 


- :o: - 


This is n romarce oftlie Credc War, anti, we can safely say,\jt 
of extiMordinary interest ; it not only being replete with startlii^ 
inciilents of UAlventure, luit is most graphieally written, anti ej 
tiia Iv original in character and plot. 

The au.hor has contributed many of the very beat stories ( 
wild life, and Indian adventure, that have of late years been at 
tied to the liteniture of our country. The lu roof this— oner' 
his lintst effoiis — is, or rat: er was, a retd, living character. I: , 
.ame of Old Ined Bropiiy is familiar all over the Soutli, and 1(| 
many tleeds of daring, his wonderiul skill with the rifle, anti fp 
unfailing certainty in “ lifting a trail,” have all made his name 
household word. 

iN'ot less celed)rated is his dog, Sampson, whose truly remar 
ole exploits art; graphically toltl in the story. ■ j 

Througliout all inns the thread of a charming love-story, tj 
cannot f.dl to interest. | ‘ 

Head the story of the Fugitives of the Chattal^ochic by 
means. m 


For sale by all newsdealers and sent post-paid, to any aadrj 
)n receipt or price, 10 cents. 


IMUNRO, PuDLisiiETi, 81- 


I 



i 




/ 




Tile j^Ldventures 


/ 


c.. 4 


OP 



AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


y 

BY CANNIBAL CHARLIE. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 
GEORGE MUNRO, 

In the Clerk’s Office of tht; District Court, for the South' 
ern District of New York. 


M. 




V. 


V. 

-r THE ADVENTURES OP AN 

^ ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


; . ;o; .. — 

V ‘ 

CHAPTER I. 

“old rufp.’^ 


In that land described as the “ Paradise of Savages ^ 
a paradise the gallant Chevalier deFonti was the first to 
invade and “settle ■’ — the land of “salt prairies” — the 
land that was once the homo of the now extinct “ Arkan-^ 
saws,” transpired the scenes I would here relate. 

My father was one of the first Anglo-Saxon settlers in 
the State of Arkansas, and, by the time I was eighteen 
years of age, he had made for his family a comfortable 
home. He owned several hundred acres of land, and a 
sufficient number of field-hands to cultivate a part of the 
estate with cotton. 

From the age of thirteen I had materially assisted in 
' sub luing the wilderness that had been the home of my 
boyhood. 

For more than five years I had been the constant com- 
panion of a man named Ruffian — a hunter employed b . 
my father to supply the hands on the plantation with 
the greater part of their animal food. 

“Old^ Ruff” and I cleared the forest of game and 
“ varmmts,” and the “hands ” slowly followed us, clear- 
ing the timber and planting the soil, while the principal 
business of my fatlier was that of seeing that we all did 
the duty required of us. 

; Those -were happy days — days of excitement and toil, 
followed by nights of profound repose. 


10 


l‘HK ADVRNTUUE9 OF 


I had but one source of anxiety or trouble. In the 
evening my father insisted on finishing what ho called 
my “ education.” He would teach me something about 
mathematics— a whim which caused mo much annoy- 
ance. 

When I w^as thought too you g to carry a rifle, my 
mother taught me to read and write, and seeing but very 
little advantage resulting from 1ier labors, the efi^orts of 
my father seemed to curse my existence with useless 
agony. I could not see the slightest use his mathamatics 
were to be in the future, as we might expect to find 
it in the West. 

In the evening, when I should be cleaning my rifle and 
preparing bullets, he worried me wdth circles and 
angles. 

When nearly twenty years of age this trouble was 
ended by my being plunged into a greater. 

For two or three days “ Old Ruff” and I had been very 
unsuccessful in procuring game, and one morning my 
father forbade our going out again on his account, or at 
liis expense. 

“ You see, boys,” said he, that your business don't 
pay any longer. Often you don’t bring home more than 
enough game to satisfy your own appetites. We should 
all starve if we only depended on what yon bring in.” 

Old Ruff sighed heavily. He knew that iny latlier’s 
words were true — that there -was no hunting wortli look- 
ing after within two days’ journey of the neighborhood. 

“ We’v<3 considerable stock that wo can kill for our 
owm use now,” continued my fallicr, “ and bacon can 
be procured very cheap down the river. You can plainly 
see, Ruflf, that I can’t afford to keep a hunter any longer. 

I don’t wish to part with jmu, for you have been with 
me many years, and have worked hard- so hnr<l Unit I 
can afford to let you take the world a little more easy 
for the future. You can do yourself and me more good 
by looking after the herds on the plantation, than by 
hunting. As for you, Frank,” continiied my fatlier, turn- 
ing to me, “ it's quite time you left here* for Uic city. 
You know your mother and I arc set on your learning 
some profession. We can afford to do something for 
you now, and you must try to become a credit to us.” 

For some time there was a silence, w’hich w^as broken 
by “ Old Ruff.” 

“ Squire !” exclaimed the hunter, addressing my father 


A7( ARKA!TSAa TRATELfT!?.. 


11 


in his usual tnanner, “ do you think it’s possible for me 
to leave off toting this gun, and turn nigger-driver? 
We’ve been acquainted nigh on to twenty years, and I 
ibonght you knowed me better. Why, Squire, as they 
say in New Orleans, ‘I’d rather sell picayune ices in 
the streets ot purgatory.’ ” 

The sensitive feelings of Old Ruff were cruelly wound- 
ed, and. “ more in sorrow tlian in anger.” he commenced 
preparations for liie departure further West. 

' Nothing any of the family could say appeared to have 
the slightest effect in changing the resolution he had 
taken tor seeking another home. 

IMy younger brothers and sisters were all great admir- 
ers of Old Ruff. His voice shook a little as he bade 
them good by, and I fancied that his. eyes were a little 
more shiny than usual, but in no other way did he betray 
any emotion. With a snail bundle of "clothing on his 
back, and his rifle over his shoulder. Old Ruff started 
away. 

I was sadly grieved to see my old companion depart in 
that manner, for Iliad a great reverence for him and his 
rifle. The two seemed to have but one history in the 
past. I knew that it was an eventful one — and that the 
rifle, of which ho always spoke in an affectionate manner 
by the name of “Mary,” had been named by him after 
an old sweetheart, loved and lost maay years ago. With 
that rifle he had long earned his daily breifti, and passed 
through many exciting scenes. His occupation in the 
neighborhood of my father’s plantation was gone, but I 
WAS certain that Ruff would yet meet plenty of work 
with his rifle in some land fuither west, and.I envied him 
the pleasure bo would find in the occupation he was go- 
ing to pursue. 

I accompanied the old fellow a little way on his jour- 
ney, and complained to him bitterly of the cruel fate 
that prevented me from sharing in his fortunes. 

“ Your father is quite right, Master Frank,” said Ruff. 
“You must not be a hunter always. Look at me, and 
see what the business brings one to. Howsoinever, 
’tain’t no consequence, as far as I’m consarned, but with 
you it’s different. You’ve got parents and other relations, 
and you owe them the duty of becoming respectable. 
You’re not free, like me. Thar is no one to be ashamed 
of me, whatever I am, but you are obliged to be respect- 
abled' 


12 


THE ADVENTURES OF 


I asked Ruff if he had any idea as to where ho was 
going. 

“ Yes,” replied the old hunter. “ Tve hern tell of a 
small lake between a large patch of timber and a broad 
pniirie, about a hundred miles to the west. I shall fust 
go thar,” 

I made, Ruff a present of a large plug of tobacco, whkli 
I liad taken from my father’s store for that purpose, andl 
r Inetuiitlv bade him good-bye. 

Old Ruff was naturally an honest man. His mind hu« j 
M "ver been contaminated by the struggle of buying cheap 
and selling dear. He had never associated with people 
guilty of deception, prevarication, falsehood, gentle rob- 
bery and downright meanness for the sake of being re- 
spectable. He was such a man as an honest person could 
respect, and only those who think more of the opinion 
of others than they do of tUcmselves could look upon him 
with contempt. 


CHAPTER II. 



^ 1 BECOME AN EXILE. 

My father was soon to depart for Little Rock, for the 
purpose of selling his cotton crop, and great prepara- 
tions were made by the whole family in providing me 
with an outfit to accompany him. 

Several yards of “ pepper and salt” home-mnde cloth 
were made up by the Women, and I was furnished with 
three suits of cdothes, whicli, to my disgust, were > IV 
alike. They were made much too large for me, by the 
instructions of my mother, who said that I hut! got to 
grow much larger. 

I did not like leaving my rifle behind, and while try-^ 
ing to devise some way of taking it unknown to my pa- 
rents, I was relieved from all anxiety on that account 
by my father, who told me that I should never want uiy 
gun again ; I had better take it to town, where I wou d 
some time have an opportunity of selling it. 

^_The cheerful way in which I received this propose 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


13 


pleased him much. He thought that my propensity for 
hunting had died, in ol}edience to the wishes of the 
family that I should learn a profession. 

My father’s nearest neighbor was a planter named 
Shelley, who had ^‘located” in Arkansas at the time my 
father did, and from the same place. 

The two families were very friendly with each other, 
especially two of the younger members of it — myself and 
Mr. Shelley’s daughter, Mary— a girl about fifteen years 
old. I do not know whether Mary Shelley was a good- 
looking girl or not. I only know that I thought so. 

For some reason I then did not distintly understand my 
reluctance to depart for Little Rock was greater wdien 
thinking of her than at any other time. 

I. used to meet Mary every Sunday, and sometimes of- 
tener. She was waiting until we were old enough to 
marry. She often told me so, and I never doubted her 
word, having never known her to be the least untruth- 
ful. 

One afternoon I went to bid her good-bye. She was 
nearly inconsolable when I told her that I was going 
away, but young as she was, she seemed pleased at the 
idea of my learning a profession, which she thought was 
the proper thing to do, for her mother had said that it 
was time I was doing something else besides running 
through tlic forest, carrying a gun. 

Mary promised to be true to me, should I not be gone 
too long, and I left her with her apron before her face; 

On reaching Little Rock, and having a talk with some 
of his acquaintances there, my father determined that I 
should acquire a little more school education before 
commencing a course of reading for a profession. This, 
he was told, was a proper thing to do, and arrangements 
were made tor m - to attend an “ Acadamy ” in the town 
for six months, when, if industrious, I might be quali- 
fied for entering a lawyer’s office. 

Having made a sale of his cotton and transacted all 
otlK-r business to his satisfiction, he gave me fifty dol- 
lars, some good advice, and hft for home. 

Amongst llu yoiuhs attending tlie school were sons 
of several mercliants of tlie town — young men who wore 
store clothes,” or clothing purchased at the slop-shops 
of New Orleans. They looked like gentleman comjjared 
with the odly-ciothed youths whose garments, in many 


u 


THE Adventures of 


instances, had been cut and made from home-made cloth 
by some black seamstress on a plantation. 

The youth whose “ home-madcs ” were tlie most con- 
spicuous in color, the most ill-fitting and old lashioncd, 
was myselt. The coat hung as gracefully over my back 
as a shirt on a broomstick. The small clothes were 
everything but small, and I could not but admit that I 
vvas a fit subject for more ridicule than any other youth 
of the schooi. 

I would not have tamely submitted to any ridiculc- 
to which I was not justly entitled, but knowing that my 
appearance commanded their attention, I listened lo 
their witty remarks with the philosophy that Srerates 
might have envied. I learned to “ suffer and he strong.” 

Some of my school -fellows were not so patient under 
the leers of others as myself, and serious quarrels ollcn 
occurred between them. They were sons of “chivalrous 
sons of the Sunny South,” and I w as another, but llicy 
were more highly educated than I. They knew wiiat 
was right and what was wu’ong. I could be insulted 
without knowing it. They could not ; and thegieaUst 
fear that some of them seemed to know, was that of los- 
ing an opportunity of resenting au imaginary or rcaJ in- 
sult. 

Two of ray companions purchased a watermelon, each 
paying an equal share. In dividing it a quarrel arose, 
and ones abbed the other with the knife he had used 
in cutting the melon. The w’oimded youth w ascontinccl 
to his home for a fortnight, and the other was gently 
reprimanded for exhibiting a passionate temper. 

One day I expressed an opinion, and was railed 
“liar.” This w^as “ fighting talk,” but I did not resent 
it. 

The boy who used the w’ord w^as much less than my 
^self, and I could have torn him in pieces as easily as an 
eagle, but I would not. Had I attempted to give him 
a gentle rebuke, in the way of boxing his ears. In; would 
have defended himself with a knife. 

In fact, he placed his hand on one, after trying to in- 
sult me, and seemed much disgusted at my not giving 
him an opportunity of using it. I w’as not infiuinccd by 
fear, but I thought it would be a foolish act to kill him". 
At school I was a dunce, a fool and a coward. This 
was not only the opinion of my school-felloW/S. and I 
was afraid it w^ould soon be my ow^n. 


AN ARKANSAS TRATELER. 


15 


In the forest, with Old RufF, I was a sensible young 
man, an intelligent being, capable of commanding respect 
from any living creature. 

This was not the case at Little Rock, and I determined 
to leave it. Several reasons strengthened this resolu- 
tion. I disliked school, and the restraint under which 
f was compelled to live, and loved the freedom of a 
hunter’s life. 

Knowing that I had an old friend on the prairie, who 
might easily be found, I commenced making arrange- 
ments for once more seeking the companionship of Old 
Ruff. I knew that he would find good hunting, but 1 
could no longer live in misery, when happiness was to 
be found by joining him. 

A letter would be more than a week in reaching my 
father ; I made no attempt to conceal my intentions. 

For twenty dollars I purchased a mule, and the next 
day started on my journey. 

My luggage consisted of a Mackinaw blanket, some 
powder and lead, a little salt, a pint flask of brandy and 
a change of clothes, except a coat and hat. 

I was an “ Arkansas Traveler.” 


CHAPTER in; 

AN ADVENTURE WITH A RATTLESNAKE. 

That part of the State for which Old Ruff had de- 
parted was generally spoken of, amongst the planters 
as ‘‘Fouche’s land.” 

Fouche was a Lonsianian, of French descent, who 
resided lor several years amongst the red men, and h!^5 
name was often given to a part of the State, about one 
hundred miles square. 

To reach this land without passing througli the neigh 
borhood of liome, I took the south bank of the river, 
and for the first time became what in that part of the 
world is called a “ Stranger.” 

For several days I met with but few hardships on my 
journey - bi'ing hospitably entertained at the plantations 
along {be way. 


Id 


THE ADVENTUREe OP 


Early one afternoon I reached a track, leading to some 
buildings about a mile from the path I was following. 

I had noticed, before reaching this track, that the mule 
had been stepping out at a sharper pace than he had be- 
fore traveled since our departure from Little Rock. 

Turning from the path I wished it to follow, the mule 
bolted down the other, with a dctdinination that would 
not be controlled. Bridle, spurs, and commands, were 
of no use in checking it. The brute had evidently re- 
solvecf to halt for the night, much earlier than I desired, 
and would not be stopped in his way. v 

From a sharp trot it struck into a gallop, and w^e ''' 
reached the collection of stables and n(gio-hats, as 
though it was the winning post of a race-course. 

My arrival was witnessed with much surprise and 
some amusement, by several negroes — men, women and 
children, who hastened out ol tlie huts to meet me. 

The surprise, however, was not shared by one old dar- 
key, who came forward, and addressed the mule by the 
name of “ Pete.” 

“I allers sed dat mule would cum back agin,” he ex- 
claimed, turning to some of his colored companions, “and 
heah he nr^ I’ve ben ’specting him every day for morn 
four years.” 

I afterwards learnt from the proprietor of the planta- ,, 
tion that the mule had been stolen from him about five \ 
years before. He made no claim upon it, however, and 
after partaking of his hospitality until the next morning, ^ 

I was allowed to depart. 

The mule made no objection to continuing the jour- 
ney. ^ 

It had paid a visit to its early liomc— been kindly re- J 
ceived, and seemed philosophically resigned to fulfill its ' 
duty. ' ^ 

I saw that it was an intelligent animal, and determin- ^ 
ed not to part with it without some good reason — such \ 

as having it stolen — taken from me by death — or being I 

offered for it a few dollars more than it was worth. 

The last plantation Avas passed, and I reached the i 
unbroken wilderness of the Great. West. Again I was 
free— more free than I had ever been .before, for I bad 
not now the nightly attraction of a home. Wherever | 

there was w’ood for a fire, Avater to drink, and grass lor > 

the mule, I could make a temporary dwelling place. ^ 

On every open space of ground small herds of the ^ 


AS ARKANSAS TRATELER. 


It 


dccr species were feeding, and others were met in the 
shade of every belt of timber, but I had not yet reached 
the place where I might expect to find Old Ruff. 

I knew that he was not luinting game for food alone, 
but tint he would be found wliere the business could be 
followed with some profit— where valuable hides and furs 
could be procured and stored in a cache, to be sent some- 
times to market. 

I knew that he was ambitious of once more “ throwing 
buff does,” and having a “far fight with a bar,” and 1 
had not yet reached a hunting ground where those animals 
w’ero plentiful. My journey must be continued still fur- 
ther, for I had not reached the lake the hunter had. so 
often described. 

The work of having to dress and cook my own food — 
of having to prepare my bed from branches and leaves 
of the forest, and other inconveniences and hardships, 
that would liave been almost unendurable to some, were 
but pleasing to me, for I had been educated a hunter, and 
there was a wild, indescribable joy in the knowledge 
that I was now independent of the aid of others — that I 
could play my own hand with nature unassisted, and win 
Irom her a living. I was not a child that needed nursing 
by society any longer. 

One day I rode for three or four miles alongside of a 
“ branch,” trying to find a place to cross it. Although the 
stream was narrow, the banks were high and perpendic- 
ular, and my only plan was to travel until I could find a 
place more favorable for my object. 

On the other side of the stream was a level plain, cov- 
ered with grass — a small prairie, on wliich -several flocks 
of animals were feeding. The side I was anxious to 
leave was thinly clad with stunted trees — tiie most of 
them having branches too near the ground for me to ride 
under them. 

Just as my way was blocked by a large tree, with 
branches spreading far and low, I heard a peculiar, yet 
familiar sound. It was that ot a rattlesnake. 

No man or beast can hear this sound, either for the first 
or the liundrcth time, without being startled by it. 

Til ere is something in it that strikes consternation and 
fear in the soul of everything that has cars, and gives a 
sudden and an involuntary desire to move away. It is a 
soul-startling, fear-giving, horrible noise, that seems to 
come from everywhere, and man or beast can no more 


18 


THE ADVEXTURES OP 


refrain from moving in some direction, either right or 
wrong, than they can from breathing. 

As tlie sound struck my ears, my face was dashed 
against the twigs and small branches of a large bough 
of the tree before-mentioned. Pete, the mule, was obey- 
ing the warning— the command given by what the “Wis- 
consin bard'’ calls the “ awful -sounding tail,” and was 
passing under the branches of tl^ tree without the 
slightest consideration for me. 

It was a thoughtful and intelligent animal, and I be- 
lieve, if alloweel time for reflection, it would haveknow?i 
better, but under the influence of fear I was not heeded, "'ll 
and was sw'ept from its back by the large branch under 
which the mule passed. 

I fell heavily upon my back, and as I rolled over and 
put my hand on the ground, to assist myself in rising, the 
hand was placed on a cold, smooth, slippery, substance. 

My hand was grasping the snake, but a few inches be- 
low its head. It jaws, tar extended, w'ere but a few indies 
from my face. Its forked longue was protruding, and 
waving near my nose. 

Its small bright eyes seemed emitting flashes of elec- 
tricity— so int< nse didilicy glare upon me. 

The crooked fangs in the upper jaw w’cre gleaming 
over me ready to fall, but they did not. My left hand 
grasped the creature’s neck, and moving it as far from f 
me as possible, I clenched the fingers with a lorce that 
threatened tt> break lliom. A coil or bight of the ser- 
pent then struck me in the face. 

The atmosjihere seen^gd poisoned with its breath. 

It was apparently trying to embrace me with its coils, 
in return for the grip I had on its neck. 

I struggled to arise, w'hile the snake seemed trying 
to prevent me. For some time we fought, wrestled, and 
tried to strangle each other. I know not how long this 
battle continued, but the victory remained with me. I i 
rose to my feet and whipped the earth with its long, 
writhing body. I threw a glittering coil of its body on 
a large stone and broke its back with the heel of my 
boot, and then threw the helpless, dyin^ thing from me, 
and was free. So horror-struck and disgusted w’as I 
with this encounter, that for a few minutes I w'ould not 
have been aispleased had some supernatural power set 
me down at Little Rock, or even in Ireland, where there 
are no snakes. 


AN ABSAN9A3 TBAVELEB. 


19 


CHAPTER IV. 

AN INCIDENT BY THE WAT. 


After picking up my rifle, and other property that 
was scattered around, I started for the mule, which wa^ 
grazing about two hundred yards away. 

I was faint and weak — hardly able to stand, and a 
strange feeling of thirst was upon me. 

For a few minutes I w^as afraid that, on first being 
thrown from the mule, I had been bitten by the snake, 
for my tacc and hands were scratched in many places 
and, from the difficulty I found in walking, the King 
of Terrors seemed to have his hand upon me. Such, how- 
ever, was not the case. My indisposition \vas only the 
result of fear— the unpleasant effects of which were be- 
ing displayed after all danger was over. 

After once more commencing my journey, I had to 
travel lor more than an hour before finding a place 
where I could scramble down the bank of the stream for 
a drink of water. Before going down I unsaddled the 
mule, and turned it loose to graze, as I had resolved to 
have a rest in the shade. 

The “branch” was flowing through a red; sandy 
loam, that much discolored the water. From the shin- 
ing, crystallized salt I saw glittering on the opposite 
bank, I was fearful that my journey must be continued 
somewhat further that day before my raging thirst could 
be satisfied. My fears were not without reason, for, on 
tasting the water, it proved to lie very salt, and I knew 
tliat drinking it would only increase my thirst. 

While I was tasting the quality of the water, several 
small pieces of earth were failing down about me, and, 
on looking up, I saw that Pete, the mule, was tlireaten- 
lag to come down and join me. 


^0 


THE ADVENTURES OP 


The greater portion of his body secmod hanging over 
the brink, ai)OUt fittoen feet above niy head, I shouted 
to him to keep back, but he still continued trying if it 
vrere not possible to put his nose into the stream with- 
out coming down bodily. 

There was hardly room for me to get out of the way, 
should Pete fail in his experiment and come down. I 
should have to plunge in the water, or stand and catch 
him. 

In vain I advised, entreated and commanded him to 
keep back, but tantalized by the sight of the shining 
liquid, he pressed forward a little too far, and the next 
instant we were both in the water. 

I rose to the surface a few feet below the place w’here 
Iliad plunged in, and saw that Pete was steadily hold- 
ing Ills position against the flood. His obstinate, mulish 
disposition would not allow him to move in the direc- 
tion the current \vould naturally have taken him. 

Perhaps I am doing the animal much injustice. It 
might, like myself, have exam ned the banks ot the stream 
for some distance below, and knt w that it would be un- 
able to make a landing. Whatever may have been the 
cause, the mule struggled with the current, and I was 
surprised at seeing him making headway against it. 

It was more than I could do without the greatest ey 
ertion, and I never remembered of being more weak and 
helpless. With much difficulty I succeeded in reaching 
the place wdierc 1 had fallen in, and once more made a 
foothold on the bank. 

As this feat was accomplished, I saw Pete turn a sharp 
point of land, about thirty yards above, and disappear 
from my sight. 

After a l-rief repose I attempted to climb the bank, 
but found the feat impossible. In coming down I had 
made use of a large root projecting from the side of the 
bank. The mule, in its (lesctnt, had broken that away, 
and without its use I was unable to reach that part of 
the bank w’here the incline was not so steep but what I 
could, scramble up. I was in a “ fix.” 

By trusting myself to the current and floating down, I 
knew that I should have a long distance to go beioic 
finding a convenient place to land. For three or lour 
miles below 1 knew that the stream rah through soft 
loam, through which it had cut a deep passage, and I 
would not trust myself to explore it. 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


31 


There was one more chance. It was to follow tht 
mnle, and see what could be found above. 

Once more I entered the water and breasted the 
stream. 

I was never a go od swimmer, and now found myself 
wholly unable to make any headway against the current. 
On this occasion despair did not give me strength, and 
I was still unusually weak from the fall or fright I had 
received earlier in the day. The effort resulted in my 
being very glad to get back to the place where I could 
■find a rest lor the soles of my feet. 

There was yet another chance. The soil of the bank 
being soft, I might make a pathway up the side by dig- 
ging with my bowie-knife. 

At this work I immediately commenced, and tor 
awhile was quite pleased with the progress I made at it. 

By the time I had gained tour steps up the side of tlie 
eank, my hands were much blistered and very w’eary, 
nut a little more work would enable me to reach a place 
where the incline was not so perpendicular, and I began 
to teel mueh better. 

Before I could mount another step, the loose earth gave 
w.ay under me, and I fell below. All my work was un- 
done. 

I feel pleasure in recording the fact that I uttered no 
oatli— muttered no complaints, or expressed my disap- 
pointin “lit in any way, but nitiently went to work, with 
my blistered h incU. in m iking a new road up the bank. 

The current of the stream seemed suddenly to have set 
ag li list the sld ^ where I w;i 3 at work. The earth under 
m: WH becoming less firm, ^ 

Lirg 5 pieces of the soft loam were melting away in 
the water, as thougn they were made of Muscavuclo 
BUg ir. 

I sliould soon have no place to stand upon, and could 
already fmey myself to be sinking lower. Yes, there was 
3001 no doubt of the tact. The current of the stream 
was ch inging. and the soft earth on which I stood would 
800.1 1)3 w isted away. 

To ; sun \v i 4 already setting, and I could have but a 
fc vV minutes more to work. 

Agiiu I co n neiiced using the knife with frantic en- 
ergy — the energy of despair. 

My labor would be in vain. 1 knew it, yet Nature bade 
me work. 


THE ADVENTURES OF 


Just as I was beginninjic to think that Nature was a 
foul^ and that she was inducin" me to die, like another, I 
heard the foot-strokes of noises on the turf above. 

They were followed by the sound of a human voice, 

“ Look, hyar B 11,” some one exclaimed, “ hyar's a 
shootin’ iron and some other plunder.” 

I called for help, and immediately after the end of a 
lariat was dropped over the bank and I was drawn to 
the top. 


CHAPTER y. 

BUCK AND BILL. 

On reaching the turf above, I found two hunters who 
had dismounted from their horses to assist me. One of 
of them w^as not more than five feet five inches in 
height, but he had the broadest shoulders ami the longest 
arms I had ever seen. His eyes were in some way prohibit- 
ed from acting in concert — each rolling wildly, indepen- 
dent of the other, and a long tootii projecting irom 
his upper jaw over a thick under-lip, gave his features 
a demoniac expression, painful to Avitness. He Avas 
the one I had heard addressed as Bill. 

The either Avas a tall, lank man, with sharp features 
and a salloAv complexion. He looked as though he had 
been dried and tanned on the prairies for the last thirty 
years. 

“ Whur's the creetur that totes this saddle ?” he 
asked, “ and what wur you down thur for 

I explained in as few words as possible. 

The man, Bill, frightened me Avitli a smila..as he said ; 

“ I should haA^e thought that the mule had more sense 
than to go doAvn thar. It must have been owned by a 
fool a long time.” 

Never min'd what my comrade hyar says,” replied 
the other, turning to me. “ He never speaks a pleasant 
word eyther to frens or strangers.” 


THE ADVENTtmES OP 


08 


The creature of -whom he was speaking now mounted 
his horse and started up the river. 

“ Our camp is not mor’n a quarter of a mile up the 
branch,” said his conpnnion. “Thar’s phmty of good 
water thar, and you ought to have known it, by the lay 
of the land, had you looked ahead.” 

I picked up my rifle and blanket, and followed him. 

Before we had gone more than three hundred yards, 
the whole face of the country seemed to have suddenly 
changed. vVe reached lower ground, where the strcp.m 
was runniLg oroad and shallow over a sand-stone bottom, 
and quite clear. 

A short distance iurther on we reached a hut made of 
boughs and bark, and my companions were at their 
camp. 

They gave me some stewed venison, and afterwards a 
“ tall drink” of whisky; and a lew minutes alter I fell 
asleep, and knew no more until the next day. 

In the morning, Pete, the mule, was found grazing 
near wdiere the hunters’ horses were tethered. 

Had we lollowed up the stream but a few yards fur- 
ther, we cou d both have reached it in safety, and could 
have found water unimpregnated with the red saline 
loam. 

Believing that I was somewhere in the neighborhood 
ol Tvhere Old RuflT should be found, I gave a description 
of him, and ol the general features of the country he liad 
gone in search of, and asked them if they knew such a 
man and place. 

“Yes.” replied the tall man, whom the other called 
“ Buck,”. “ thai is sucli a man as you describe, camped 
on the shore ot a lake, about ten miles from hyar. He’s 
been thar about three months. Wliar did you know 
him ?” 

I did not wish to state what part of the country I w^as 
from, fori believed that most of the hunters liad some 
communication with the border settlements to tlie east, 
and I ivas unwilling to give my parents any chance at 
present of learning where I was. 

Without thinking that they might have heard a differ- 
ent story, I told them that I was acquainted with Ruffian 
in Missouri, from whence I had latefly come. 

The two hunters exchanged glances, and a suspicion 
crossed my mind that I had made a mistake. 


u 


THE ADVENTUHES OF 


“What mout your name be?” asked the animal caned 
Bill. 

I was in company with rneV, plain-speaking backwoods^ 
men, w’ho would not .'Appreciate or understand politeness, 
and replied that it might be Andrew Jackson, but that 
it was not, and that they might call me Frank, 

Altliough men of the forest and prairie, they were also 
men of the world, and were not the lea^t oflenacd at my 
indisposition to being “ pumped.” They would not 
have submitted to that themselves. 

“ We shall pass by RuQ’s camp this morning,” said 
Buck, and it you want to find him, git yerself ready lor 
a start.” 

Fortune seemed trying to make amends for the cruel 
way she had trcab^l me the day before. I had heard of 
Old Ruff, and in two or three hours should be at his 
camp. 

During our ride that morning but tew words were 
spoken. 

My companions were like other hunters find trappers 
I had seen — generally silent, and I have since observed 
that men who have been long engaged in those occu- 
pations, seldom talk for amusement, unless around the 
cami>fire at night. 

Dining the day, or on a march, they only speak as 
few words as possible. When not talking, I do not 
believe that they are thinking. They arc generally 
chewing tobacco. 

A ride of about three hours over a level country, spot- 
ted with a few grov cs of linden trees, brought us to the 
shore of a beautiful lake. It was uot more than three mil es 
in its greatest distance across, and was apparently bor- 
dered on three sides by a dense forest. 

In place of finding a solitary hunter’s camp, I was 
surprised at finding a collection of rude huts or wig- 
wams, made of bushes and bark. 

Several men,' dressed as hunters, were loitering about, 
and a drove of tame liorses and cattle were grazing on 
the plains, that bordered one side of the lake. 

Amongst the people in the camp were three or four 
negroes, engaged in dressing and cooking food. 

I was anxious to sec Ruff, if he was in camp, and learn 
an explanation ot the strange scene around me. This 
desire was expressed to the inhuman-looking Bill, who re- 
main e a by me. 


AH AB1SAHSA8 TRAVSLSB. 


.-S5 

“All right,” he answered, “Buck has gone for him, 
and they’ll be hyer in a minute.” 

From these words, I learnt that there was a determin- 
ation with the two hunters, that Rufi* and I should first 
meet in their presence. 

Bill’s words were those of truth, for Buck soon made 
his appearance, followed by my old companion. 

Old Ruflf rushed torward and grasped my hand. 

“ M iscer Frank !” he exclaimed, this is the most joy- 
some minute of my life. How did you escape ?” 

“ Stop a minute,” said Buck — “ Before you two have a 
confab 1 lu gwine to ask you a few questions. Whar did 
you last see this lad ?” he asked, turning to Ruff. 

“I’ve told you,” replied the hunter, “ that Ikim from 
Louzyanna, and I suppose Mr. Frank, hyer, has told you 
that he kim from some other place, yet we knows each 
other. Wall! what of it. Nyther of us wants you to 
know whar we come fiom, and we’ve had no chance of see- 
ing each other, to make our stories tally together.” 

“ I don’t ask to know whar you come from, or whether 
you stole a boss or a nigger, that you had to run away 
tor.” 

“ That’s a fact,” answered Bill, “ you don’t know any- 
thing about it.” 

“ Yes, I do know something about it. I know that you 
never had to slide from the clearings, for doing a for- 
gery, because you can’t write.” 

This put Buck into good humor. “ I dare say it’s all 
right,” said he. 

“ VYe shofild’nt expect you’d tell the truth to stran- 
gers. ’Tain’t right you should. All we want is, no 
double dealing with us. We shall trust your friend 
with you — and mind he does no mischief, or you’ll have 
to suffer for it. You have a talk with him about busi- 
ness.” 

Rufi' promised to do as required, and soon after we 
were left alone. 


THE ADTEXrrniES OF 


ae 


CHAPTER VI. 

INQUIRIES AFTER TRUTH. 

“ What docs this menu, RufF?” I asked, as soon as the 
others had departed. “ These men are not hunters. What 
are they here for, and -why are you "svith them 

“ No ; they are not hunters or trappers,’’ answered Ruff. 
“Nytherare we, at present, and God only knows when 
we shall be. ’ 

“ But what are the men whom we see about us ?” 

“ Cattle-runners, hoss-thieves, nigge - tellers, and mur- 
derers,” answered Ruff, ” I’ve ben wiiii ’em for mor’n 
two months, and I’m gwinc to stop with ’em some time 
longer, I hope.” 

“Then, Ruff, I must leave you. I’ve had a long jour- 
ney, and suffered some hardships to find you, and I hopeci 
to meet you an honest hunter — not the companion of 
thieves and outlaws, as I believe those men are who 
have just left us.” 

“ You are quite right, Master Frank, in all you say and 
think, and so are nil your family, but I tell ycui that at 
present, I’m with these men heart and soul, and you must 
be wit!) me. We must be thieves, murderers— anything 
to please them.” 

“Ruff; what do you mean? Have you gono mad? 
Why don’t you explain?” 

“ I am explaining as fast as I can, or as last as you will 
let me,” answered Rufl', “ and hyer's one pint you must 
not forget for a single minute. If thar’s anything on.’arth 
the men hate, it is what you call an lionest hunter. 
They look upon him as a varmint not*fit to live. They 
have druv every gtnuwiue hunter and trapper out of 
the d ggins.’’ 

“But why have they not driven you outl Why do 
you remain with them ?” 


an aJIKaKSAS traveler. 


a? 

I’m explaining as fast as I can. Now, when eny of 
’em are by, do you never speak of the bar we once killed, 
or of eny of our hunting affairs. If ever you have occa- 
sion to use your shooting-iron afore ’em, alters miss the 
mark. Alters appear as much like a town-fool as you 
can, and then they’ll trust you.” 

“ But I don’t want them to trust me,” I exclaimed. 
“ Tell me what you mean. Why do you not explain f ’ 

“ I’m explaining everything us fast as you will let me,” 
replied Ruff, in a voice that showed he was a little annoy- 
ed at my impatience ; “ and hyer’s another thing I must 
caution you about. You don’t swar. Now sich morality 
don’t suit our present position or society. You must 
larn to swar a blue streak on the smallest occasion.” 

I followed Iliift’s advice immediately, and com- 
menced practicing the art or vice of using bad language. 

I cursed and su o.e at him to the bestort’ my ability, for 
not making what he called an explanation, in a way 
to please me instead of himself. 

Old Ruff smiled. 

“ That's right, Master Frank,” said he ; “I see you arc* 
not unwillin’ to folly my advice, and now I want to ask 
you a fe v questions. Was your father, mother, and the 
girls well when you left?” 

“ Yes, quite well, but will — ” 

“Thar, thar! don’t interrupt me. They are all right, 
and thank God for that; but now let me give some 
more advice. Doiit you ever speak afore these meu of 
father or mother, or of any relations. If eny of ’em asks 
your name, say it’s Jones. You must never mention 
your father s name afore Buck or Bill. If they knew your 
name., was Prank Roselirook, they’d have a bright sus- 
picion. AVe’d both be killed.” 

1 felt quite unable to stand this talk any longer, and 
gave Rulf to understand tliat such was the case, as plain- 
ly as I could. 

I started away from him. 

“ Stop a minute Frank,” ho continued. “ I’ve not 
much more to say. You know nearly all.” 

“ I only know that you have gone mail or silly,” I re- 
plied. “and will not listen to you any longer, without 
learning something.’’ 

‘ “ But I am telling you something, as fast as I can, and 
notniug-no, not one word but what you must know. 
Now thar’s your father’s neighbor, Mr. Shelley. You 


THE ADVENTURES OP 


must not mention his name, or even the name of your 
little sweet-heart, Mary Shelley, or they will star at you, 
and perhaps ask questions.” 

Ruff had mentioned a name that was music in ray ears, 
and I believe that ihe sound of it so much subdued my 
ill-humor, that I patiently resigned myself to the task 
of learaing what he had to communicate by letting him 
have his own way uninterrupted. 

After listening to him for more than an hour, I learnt 
that his companions were not men who had chosen the 
prairies as a residence, through the love of a hunter’s 
lile, but through necessity. 

Some had escaped fioni the rudely-constructed border 
prisons. Some had fled to the West, to escape being 
brought before a jury of their countrymen. All were 
runaways from justice, and outcasts from all society but 
their own. 

They were wishing to migrate to Texas, and had unit 
ed together for protection during the journey. 

During the last three or four months, they had made 
two excursions to the nearest plantations to the north, 
and liad picked up several horses and cattl , and five 
negroes, all of which they were going to take on their 
journey. I could understand and believe all that Ruff 
told me, but what I wished to learn most, was that which 
he seemed most determined not to tell. 

AVhy had he joined such a gang of ruffians ? Why did 
he remain with them ? Why elid he wish me to join 
them ? Why had he given me so many singular instruc- 
tions ? 

Beioie Ruff had touched upon any of these points, to 
which I had done all in my power to lead him, we were 
tailed to dinner. 


AN ABKANSAS TBAVBLfiRo 


S8 


CHAPTER m \ 

BUFF 6TILL MYSTEKIOUS, 

Five white men besides Ruff and my«elf gathered 
around the pieces of veuison, that had been cooked for 
Its, and I was told by Ruff that two more were away 
on an expedition, in which tliey expected to discover a 
trapp'-’i’’8 and remove its contents. 

Amongst my new companions there was only one who 
carried an hon-'sMooking face. 

He tvas a joung man, about twenty-three years of age, 
and had eyes with a wild expression, although a little un- 
f?teady in their gaze. Unlike the others, liis features did 
not bear an expression of cunning, deceit or malice. If 
he was a ba<l man, ho was the most dangerous of the lot, for 
'there was but little deception in the others. Any one who 
would liive trusted them, could never have paid any at- 
tention to learning Nature's hand-writing, as it is written 
on the human face. 

The convers ition was noisy and general, 

1 B'lpp'xe we shall all turn respectable planters when 
we get to Tex is.'' said one of the men. “ I shall, for one. 
'W'h at do you say. Buck !’’ 

“ Yes, dangerously respectable,-’ replied the person ad- 
dressed. 

‘‘I don’t believe thar’s sich a thing as a respectable 
planter on this varsal ’arth” said Ruff. “Boatmen is 
good, and lumbermen and wood-cutters is not a bad sort 
o* creoturs, but a big cuss on all planters.” 

“ Why I how aro they wuss than others?” said Bill 
with the wolf-tootli. 

“ Because tlmy want to own all natur, and goverE 
everything arter thar own fashion. Hossee, cattle, nig- 
^brs and poor white folks must work fur ’em, while they 


80 


THE ADVENTUBES OE 


do nothin'? but gives orders, make la^rs, and spend all 
the money. But I’ll let some of ’em know thar’s a Ruffian 
in the world yet. I’m not one of the things belongin’ to 
’em. Tiiar's somotljiii’ in tlic business of a phmtirthat 
makes him the natral enemy of every other livin’ creatur, 
and I dar say, if I should ever git to be one, I should 
lose my present respectability, and become as bad as any 
' f ’em. 

“ Now’, I once knowed a young feller that w’orked with 
iie on a flat-boat many years ago. He war all right 
fhon, but some of his relations up and died one day, and 
!c;t him a heap of money, and he turned all over a plant- 
er. I wont VO sec him in Louzyanna, jist afore I came 
byer, and tlwe cussed skunk would not renumber me. I 
was so riled that I could not help havin’ a skriinmage 
with him, in which he kim ofi* pretty considerably the 
wust. Another planter*, who was cny thing but a just-ass 
of the Peace, sentenced me to three months’ imprison- 
ment in the county jail. The Sheriff’s hotel was nothin’ 
but a block-house— too soft to hold me, and one night I 
walked out — went into the sheriff’s private residence — 
borrowed his rifle, and brought it hyer on another man's 
boss, and thar’s the rifle, ” atlded Ruff, as he pointed toja 
ree, against which -was leaning the gun, that, under the 
^ame of “ Mary,” I had known him to carry for more 
ban twelve years. 

‘‘But how and wdiar did you bekim acquainted with 
your young friend, the stranger ?” asked Buck. 

Bill with the woll-tooth gave a grunt, which I under- 
stood as an approval of the question being proposed. 

“ He writes a very pretty hand,” answered Ruft’, “but 
the most silly tiling he ever recorded was the sentence 
condemning me to three mouth’s imprisonment in a sott 
liouse. He mout have known that I’d not stop thar, for 
I wos once the skipper of one of his fatlicr's flat-boats.” 

“ But w’liat’s he hycr for ?” asked another. 

‘ Go on, Frank and pitch ’em a lie — a good one, while 
,)Ou are ut it,” said Ruff. 

I denied the right of the company to know anything 
of my past history, and refused to gratify their curiosity. 

“ I suppose he’s bashful, being young,” said Buck ; “but 
he'll git partly over that afore lie’s much older. Do you 
want to go to Texas ?” he asked, turning to mo. 

I replied in the affirmative. ' 

‘^Wall, you must be a good boy when you git thar. In 


an Arkansas traveler. 


81 


fact wo innst all boliavo pretty, for it’s tho last place of 
refuj(c*, except hell. 

I heard a story the other day jiboiit a child of natar' 
inTiiXis, who hid been guilty of taken some of his 
mother's property. He had stolen a nigger, and on 
iarnin th it the sheriff was lookin’ for him, he went to a 
lawyer for advice. The lawyer told him the best thing 
he could do, was to slide. 

“ ‘ Wh:ir shall I slide to V asked the child of natur. ‘ I’m 
in Texas now.’ You can see from this,” continued Buck, 

that when wo g^it to Texas, we shall have to trade ac* 
c irdin’ to lor.” 

Tlie conversation of the company was amusing, but 
my thoughts were partly diverted from it by trying to 
comprehend the strange conduct of oid Rnff. 

Why had lie amused the company with a made-up 
story about escaping from a Louis ina jail, and the sher- 
ift’s rifle, Wliy did he wish his comrades to believe that 
he was a refugee from justice, and that I was notlier. 

1 did not care whether the men were go ng to Texas, cr 
not. I wished to know nothing of their liistory or busi- 
ness, but what I did wish to know, Ruflf had caref’ul'y 
concealed from my knowledge, notwithstanding all my 
eflorts to make liiin explain. Although much annoyed at 
his conduct, my mind was not wholly engaged in fretting 
about it, f(}r occasionally an inquiry would arise as to 
where I h id seen the young man called Harry, whom I 
have already mentioned, as one whoso appearance awak- 
ened no aversion or dislike. His features had a familiar 
appj iraiiQG — not such as I had seen within a few weeks, 
but as though they had been slightly changed by time. 

On our leaving the others, I expressed this opinion to 
Old Ruff. ” Do you want to have me shot, or hung to a 
tree, or burnt alive V' exclaimed the' old hunter, as I saw 
the first expression of alarm on his features; “ if not, 
then do you stop tliinkin’. I believe if you had an op- 
portuaity, you’d get into a yarn with that fellow, and try 
to finri out whar you’d seen him. You’d let him know 
whar you’re from. They’d all find out that I d bon de- 
coivin’ ’em, and they’dxut the throats of the par of us,” 

What for ?” I asked. “ Why should they care whei-e 
we are from ?” 

That’s what I have been trying to explain to you all 
day, but you seem detarmined not to understand. Now^ 
io you mind what I tell you. Don’t say a word to that 


THE ADVENTUEKS Off 


young fellow about enytUing, or he’ll find you out, and I 
can’t trust him. 

I can trust no one — ^not even you, although all you loro 
most on ’arth depends on your being cautious as a fox, 
and understanding every word I suy.” Ilufi’s conduct 
was driving me nearly frantic. 

“No more of your nonsense,” I exclaimed, “ but tell 
me wiiat you mean. You shall annoy me no longer. It 
you have anything to tell me, say it now.” 

“ Of course I’ve something to tell you,” answered Ruff, 
“ and I have been ti’ying to do it ever since you came, 
but you will not listen. When I first saw you to day, 
my heart jumped for joy, for I thought that I should 
have some one to help me, but I’m beginnin’ to wish you’d 
kept away, and let me play my hand alone.” 

I felt a painful, cliOking sensation, as my heart seemed 
to rise into my throat. 

Making a violent effort, I controlled my rage, and walk- 
ed away to look after the welfare of Pete, who was graz- 
ing on the plain with a drove of otlter animals, under 
•the care of a negro. 

Years ago I had noticed that Ruff would never come 
to a point on any subject that seemed uppermost in his 
mind. He would talk over and around it for hours, and 
say nothing. 

About two years before, he once found two bear cubs 
in a hollow tree. 

This discovery was made late in the afternoon, and 
blocking up the entrance to the tree, so that they could 
not escape, he came home. That evening he gave me to 
understand that there was an adventure for me. the next 
day, and excited my curiosity to the utmost. This an- 
noyance was continued during a walk of five miles the 
next morning, and I never learnt anything about the pur- 
.pose of our journey until I heard the young bears growl- 
ing within the log. 

Undoubtedly with the best intentions Ruff w^as serv- 
ing me in the same way again. The secret he had to tell 
me was one of much importance. I was certain of* that. 

, It was one that he hardly dare breathe to himself. He 
seemed haunted by a constant dread that it would be 
discovered by his evil companions, and any approach to- 
wards making that secret known to another was made 
with fear and caution. 

I resolved to wait patiently until morning, and then 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


S8 

adopt a plan that would make him explain his strange 
conduct. 

I liad lon^ ago learnt that men on the prairies were 
possessed ot extreme characters— that there were to be 
ibu id amongst them some of the most noble, and some 
of the most contemptible persons on earth. Ruff was 
one of the former. He was a companion of two or more 
ot the latter. Why should this be ? This was the mys- 
tery I was determined to learn without further delay, or 
seek other society. 


- i ifv 




CHAPTER Vm. 

THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 


That evening the two absent men of the company re- 
turned. They had| three led horses, each heavily laden. 

Amongst the “ cargo ” ot the horses were nine bear- 
J skins, and several hundred minx, wild-cat, and other skiiis, 

[I which they had taken from the cache of some hard-toil- 

ing hunters. 

They were sharp fellows — those two who had found 
and robbed the cache. 

They knew there was a stranger in the camp before 
tliey reached it, for they had seen Pete’s track in com- 
pany with the tracks of horses, which they knew be- 
longed to their companions, Buck and Bill. 

During tlie evening one of them, who closely examined 
- the “ pepper and salt ” with Avhioh my clothing was 
5 made, asked me if I w'as not from the interior of Arkan- 

- - . sas. 

Buck, Bill and two or three others exchanged glances 
with each other. 

“ No,” I replied, “ although I believe my coat came 
ft-om there. I met a young man who was going to Lit- 
tle Rock, and having a suspicion that my ‘ store clothes’ 
would not look respectable on the prairie, and as he did 
not care about appearing in towni in ‘ pepper and salt. 


u 


THE adventures OF 


WO made a ‘ swap.’ His ‘ home-mad es ’ fit me a little too 
much, but that is more my fault than that of tho 
maker.” ^ 

When I was asked if I was not from the interior of 
Arkansas the young man, Harry, whose familiar appear- 
ance had troubled me so mucii, turned upon me an in- 
quiring gaze, which remained fixed on my features for 
mor(3 than a minute. 

Suddenly his Ccaturcs seemed illumined by what I knew 
to be a mental light — the settlement of a doubt — the re- 
moval of a cloud Irom the mental vision — the death of a 
query. 

It was not until that expression came over his face 
that a light suddenly dawned upon my own mind. 

I recognized the youth, Harry, as an old playmate of 
my boyhood. 

Two miles from my father's plantation there once lived 
an old bachelor named Barton, who kept a “store”— a 
place where the surrouiHling inhabitants could purchase 
Bibles, boots and butter, aliirts. sugar and saucepans, 
powder, pills, pitchforks, and nearly every thing el?; 
they wanted. He w'ns a brother of Mrs. Slielby, of tlic 
family I have b fore mentioned, but w^as not on lric»dly 
terms with Ins sister or her husband. 

Mr. Barton bad also a nephew — a youth with a low 
■incl narrow' forehead, who was of some assistance to him 
in his business. I often used to go to the store and 
pass an hour or two in company with his nephew, Harry 
Barton, and whenever he had a holiday he gencralh- 
pnssed it w'ith me, usually at angling in a little stream 
that crossed my father’s plantation. As wc grew' a little 
older our acquaintance ceased. In fact, there was a feel- 
ing of jealousy berAveen us, on account of Mary Bhclby, 
his cousin, whom I have before mentioned. 

Mary used to say that Harry was a bad, wicked boy, 
and eventually used to sec as little of him as possible. Mr. 
^Barton was a feeble man, who had not possessed good 
health for many years, and Mary had told me that her 
Cousin Harry had otten expressed the wish that the old 
man would make haste and die. “When lie does go, 
Mary,” he used to tell her, “ then you and I will nave 
all his money, and wc will live in'^New Orleans, whera 
there are theaters.” 

One morning old Barton w'as found in his store, with 
liia head nearly severed from his body. 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


The nephew, Harry Barton, and a negro slave belong- 
ing to the old gentleman, could not b,c found. 

Mr. Barton had just born collecting his deb's, and ap- 
parently making arrangements for going to New Orlearai 
for a new stock of goods, and it was supposed that hr 
was murdered lor his money. 

The nephew and the negro could not be traced, ai!*! 
the mystery of the tragedy had never been explained. 

Harry Bartoi was nowin my company. Had he, . t 
the age of'sixteen years, committed that horrible crini.. 
as many be’ieved ? 

Circumstances were against him. For five years he 
had kept away from his early home ; ho was now the 
companion of bad men, and yet, as I gazed upon him, I 
could not believe that 1 was looking upon a man who 
had committed a cold-booded murder for money. 

The next morning I determined to have an under- 
standing with Ruff, and commenced preparations for a 
journey. 

When the old hunter saw* the mule saddled, and that 
I was thinking alxnit leaving him, he came up in a state 
of great oxciteineut, and exclaimed ; 

“ Why, Frank ! what on uirth do you mean by desert- 
ing me, and at such a time as this?” 

“ I think this is the time to leave yon,” I replied, “ for 
you are in bad company, and I remember reading the 
fable about the dog. Tray. You are with thieves and 
murderers.” 

“ Yes, I told you so, and wc must stay with/cm, or 
they’ll thieve and murcler more. Haven’t I told you what 
these fellers are gwinc to do ? Afore they start for Texas 
tliey'rc gwinc to have a grand nine for money, horses and 
niggers, and cruel revenge.” 

Ruff was commuDicativo now, and in the course of 
half an liour I learned from him that the company were 
to. visit the neighb<uhood where my father resided, for 
the purpose ol obtaining more property and some re 
vengc. He toid me that, many years before. Buck and Bill 
had both been lynched, tarred and leathered, and ridden 
on a rail by a mob of indignant planters, who assembled 
at Old Barton’s store. They had been horse-steaiing, and 
ccmmitting other crimes, and were justly punished, and 
cideicd to leave the btato. 

“ They’re gwme back,” said Ruff, “to rob, burn, murder, 
and destroy all they can, and your father is one ol the 


THE ADTENTUHES OB' 


8 « 

principal men whom they arc determined to kill. IVe 
neard that beauty, Bi 1, swear a horrible oath ‘that he'll 
kill your father with his own hands.-’ 

“ Then w’hy had -we not better go to my home and 
warn the people of the danger threatening them ?” I 
asked. 

‘‘No-; that will not do, for they have already a little 
suspicion of me, ami if we should leave ’em they'd know 
what for, and would kill ns afore we could get thar. Be- 
sides, they have a friend living in the neighborhood — a 
man who sends w'oidto’em of all that hap])cns. “Wo 
don’t know %Yho the man is, and ho would know that 
their plan is discovered. They would come some night 
when we were not watching. I’ve been tliinkin’ over 
the business night and day,” continuetl Ruff, ‘‘and the 
surest plan to prevent mischief is to be 'with ’em. TVe 
shall know’ then what they are aliout. Should wo leave, 
that Bill Avould be like a snake in the grass, unseen, or 
like a pantlur, crouching for a spring in a dark night. 
He is satest wljcn 1 liave an eye on liiin, and a rifle in 
my hand. I shall not do a murder, but depend on't, 
thar'll be a time come ^Yh(n 1*11 have to shoot that teller, 
Bill, and the people of Marion Comny will elect me a 
constable lor it. But, Frank, Yve have got sonic tcrnlile 
and ente work to do. These men arc not to be easily 
beaten by us. I remember the time they w’crc driven 
out ot the clcann's. It took nearly all the planters lor 
twenty miles around, and your father w’as one of the 
principal men in the hunt. Don't you remember it ; you 
must have been about eight years old 

“ Yes, quite well. I thought that lie had gone to a war, 
and was delighted to see him come back safe.” 

“Wall, Buck and Bill were two of the fellers run 
down and punished that day, uud 1 believe they've 
thougln about nothing but revenge ever since, and your 
fatliei and Mr. Sheiby are the tw’o men they are most 
determined to kill. Thar’s nothin’ to prevent ’em Irom 
destioyin the wbolo neighborhood. They will come 
upon It in the night, when no one is prepaicd. 'l hcy’vc 
got all the plans fixed - the road they arc to take \Yhcn 
they leave w’lil be over Millard’s Bridge, winch they 
will burii, and horsemen lollowin’ 'em will have to go 
ten miles round, TheyM get cl’ar ofi on to the prairio 
with ah the horses and cattle they can find. They havo 
mr>^e friends with a chiot ot an Osago tiibO) and will 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


37 


pass through his country, on the way to Texas. The 
chief will not let them be followed by anything less than 
three hundred men, for he’s able to keep back°any num- 
ber less than that. 

“ Thar’s one or two wliite men in the neighborhood, 
who’ll help ’em, and your father has a darkey— ‘ Lazy 
Joe.’ ” _ 

“ Yes, a bad, sulky, lazy fellow,” I exclaimed. 

“Exactly ! Wall, Joe will hold alight, if wanted, for 
Bill to cut your father’s throat. Now all what I tell you 
would be done, but for two reasons.” 

“ What are they ?” I asked. 

“I’m one, and you’re another.” 

Our conversation was interrupted by Buck, who gave 
orders that the camp should be broken up in preparation 
for a march. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE CAMP BROKEN UP. 

The negroes, under the superintendence of one of the 
white men, were started oft* in advance of the others, 
with the horses and cattle. 

From the accumulation of property moved from the 
c am p, I saw that the leaders of the party had a strong 
regard for wealth as well as revenge. 

Besides about three hundred cattle, there were nearly 
one hundred horses, which, I was told, were occasionally 
caught and used under the saddle. 

Besides this stock, were several horses packed witli 
skins and furs, which were too valuable to be left behind, 
although they would have to be carried many miles be- 
fore they would reacli a market. This trouble, however, 
was of very little consequence to our companions, for the 
horses that carried the “ cargo” were going to the mar- 
ket also, 


38 


THE ADVENTURES OF 


After the stock and negroes had been started off, a 
small cciclie was “ sprung” and several bottles of whisky- 
taken from it. 

In Little Rock I had seen two or three boatman, on 
what tiiey called a “bender.” 

Their actions were a little eccentric. One of them 
atoovl in the center of the street, and striking an attitiule 
''I A] IX defying the lightning, challenged “ every man on 
o ir'h, barrin’ General Jackson,” to fight. As the clial- 
was not accepted, he passed the remainder (4' the 
ulternooii in expressing his contempt for human-nature 
in every sha])e — barring that of his favorite general. 

Another boatman, every ten minutes, informed the peo- 
])!e (jt the town, with horrible oaths, that he knew every 
biglit and bend ot the Arkansas and Mississippi, better 
than any other living man. 

Tile third boatman was sentimental, and cried bitterly 
ovc'- the loss of a wdfe, that had left New-Orleans for 
heaven several years before. 

Tliese were the only drunken men I had ever seen, un- 
til my companions on tlie prairie began to give some evi- 
dene ^ of the quality of the article they were drinking. 

The men drank the whisky as though it w as a matter 
of biishiess, that should be accomplished as soon as pos- 
sible, in order that they might start on their journey. 

About three hours after the departure of the cattle, we 
mounted for a start. 

At Uiat moment, two of tliem got into a dispute as to 
which rode the fastest horse. This controvei'sy was to 
be settled by a trial. The one which reached the cattle 
first was to be the victor, and botli set ofl' at full gallop. 

Some of the others wished to see which won the race, 
find lollovved them at full speed, liulf and I were left 
with Harry Barton, who had been drinking, but was not 
what could be called drunk. He did not know that I 
had recognized him, and thought himself safe. 

“Ruff,” said I, “ this young fellow is named Barton. We 
were once well acquainted. - II<j knows who I am.” 

“I don’t believe it.” 

“ Do you remember Old Baiton, who was murdered for 
his money ?” 

“ Yas ! is this the nephew^, who disappeared, and wai 
never heard of?” 

“ Yes, and he remembers me.” 

“ Are you sure 2” 


AN ARKANSAS TRAYELER, 


39 


“Yes, painMly sure.” 

“ Then we’d better kill him. He’ll betray us, and it’s 
strange that lie’s not done it befoie. Let us first make 
sure that he knows you. This is an aflair in which 
tbar should be no mistake.” 

Under the circumstances in which we w’crenow placed, 
it was difficult to understand how to act for the best. 

It would not do to give Harry Barton a hint that he 
was known to us, lor there was a possibility that he 
might not be certain of ray identity, and I would only be 
betraying myself. 

But should he bo certain that iw'as Frank Hose)»rook 
— the son of the man w'liom his companions were going 
to rob and murder — w'hat could he intend doing? 

He must know that I would prove a traitor to the ex- 
pedition, and why did he not inform his companions 
tha‘t such was the case ? He would be certain to do so, 
before we wrere many liours older, and how^ should wo 
escape the rage of Buck, and the demon, Bill. 

Harry Barton w'as either for or against us. If lor us, 
why did he not make himself knowra?~If against us, 
why did he not tell his companions that w'C were deceiv- 
ing them ? 

” Ar.‘ you certain tliat he know's where we are going ?” 

I asked. 

“Yes,” answered Ruff, “ he knows all about that, for 
I’ve heard Buck speak of Barton’s store, and Simm’s tav 
ern, wdieu he wras by.”. 

”If we should accuse him of being Harry Barton, 
and ask himw'hat he means, what would be the conse- 
quences ?” 

We should only betray ourselves. He’s ben one of 
the, gang for year? , and perhaps they know’^ ivho he is, 
but iiave no fear of him. It is you and I, who have de- 
nied ever being on the Arkansas river, that they’d mur- 
der, if they larnt that we’d deceived ’em.’’ 

“ But what shall we do ?” 

“ Keep a sharp eye on that Harry, for he’s more dan- 
gerous, at present, than Buck or Bill,’’ 

Ruff ancl I now rode on and overtook Harry, who, a 
little elated with whisky, was shouting a song to the 
tune of “ The Arkansas Traveler.” 

“What are you fellows alwuiys holding a secret con- 
fab about?” he asked, as we rode up. “I don’t like 
it; neither does Buck. Buck will not have it much 


40 


THE ADVENTUHES OP 


longer— neither will I. We don’t want so much secret 
scheming.” 

Hirry had drank just enough whisky to untie his 
tongue, and I was in hopes that he would show his true 
colors, which he did. 

“ I’ve been watching you for a day or two,” said he to 
me, “iust to see if I could learn your game. You are 
Frank liosebrook. I knew you when you first came, but 
the lies of both of you will avail nothing. I’ll have you 
both tried by a court-martral, and shot this evening. I’ll 
save the company, and be the best man in it.” 

This was a rash, foolish speech, to make at tliat time 
and place. No other but a silly youth, under the influ- 
ence of drink, would have made it. 

“H e must die afore he secs the others,” exclaimed Ruff, 
in a lioarsj whisper. “ Now, Frank, do you ride straiglit 
on, and tike no notice of me. You mind your own bris 
iness, and overtake the others as soon as you can. Don't 
you turn your eyes towards me, if you don’t want to see 
me do a holy action.’ ’ 

Harry had now quickened the pace of his horse, evi- 
dently with the intention of overtaking his companions. 
Ruff moved ahead of me, pursuing him. 

Was it iny duty to hasten the pace of the mule— keep 
up with my old companion, and prevent him from com 
mittiiig any act of violence, we might afterwards regret ? 
If so, til. it duty was neglected. I was uncertain what 
to do, and my mind would not form a firm resolution. I 
rode slowly up a long ascent, and saw Ruff disappear 
over its sanimit. 

Tlie coLiiitry, for some distance in advance, was what 
Western people call a “rolling plain,” with here and 
there, groves of timber. 

On reaching the top of the hill, I saw that the nar- 
row vale below was better wooded than any other 
part of the road we had passed, and Ruff and Harry 
were conceded from my view. I rode on — mounted the 
ascent beyond, yet nothing ol them could be seen. 

About four miles further on. I overtook the negroes 
and cattle, at the place where I had camped with Buck 
and Bill, three days before. The cattle and horses were 
grazing, and the drunken men were lying under the shade 
of the trees near the river, Ruff and Harry were not 
with them. 


ABKAI^SAS XBAYELEB. 


r i ,- > 


CHAPTER X. Vi 

’ I 

R U F p’s RETURN. ( 

I turned the mule off* to graze — quenched my thirst at 
the “branch,!’ and lying down under the shade of a cot- 
ton wood, tried to form an opinion on things in general. 
What had become of Ruff and Harry ? 

Had I done right in allowing them, under the circum- 
stances, to disappear from my sight? These and many 
other question were thorns in my mind, that kept me 
from indulging in a siesta, like the others around me. 

After a brief slumber, the w^lf-tooth Bill roused up, 
and asked me about Ruff. 

“ He’s gone after that young fellow, Harry.” 

“ Wall ! whur’s Harry gone ? Give an account of yer- 
self. What does this hyur all mean ?” 

He spoke in a sharp, unpleasant tone, as though he 
hoped to find some cause for having a row with me. 

“ I’ve no account to give,” said I, “ except that Harry 
started away from us, and that Ruff had some suspicion 
that he was going to take a short cut for Marion County, 
and went to bring him back.” 

“ Hyur, Buck ! kim hyur,” exclaimed Bill. “ Thur’s 
treason in the camp already.” 

“ What’s up ?” asked Buck, as he drew near. 

“ Ruff thinks that Harry has taken a short cut to blow 
on us, and has gone after him.” 

“ Wall ! that’s sothin’ to meadowtate on,” exclaimed 
Buck, after a short pause. “ Why didn’t you go with him 
and learn the result ?” 

This inquiry was put to me. 

“ Because nay mule was not willing,” I replied. “ It 
don’t believe itself bound by nature to keep up with 
horseflesh. They rode out of my siglu lu the timber.” 

Buck seemed satisfied with this ausw^er, as far as I was 
concerned, and turning to Bill said, ” I’ve allers had a 


42 


THE ADVENTURES OF 


leetle suspicion of that tcllow, uud I hope that Ruff will 
bring back his heart.” 

“ Yas, that would be conviusin’ of one thing,” answer- 
ed Bill, “ but I, for one, have allers had a leeue suspicion 
of Ruff. You know he once had some boughten toback- 
er, which he said was made in MiSoory, and we both 
knew better. People should tell the truth, if they don’t 
want to be thought cussed liars.” 

Artful as were these tw^o villains, they were deceived 
by the story I had told them. 

“ I wonder if Harry thinks that by betraying us, he'll 
squav us for the past ?” said Bill, as they were talking 
over his unexpected absence. ' 

“ Perhaps so,” replied Buck, “ I’ve often* seen [n.'ople 
that could only perform one yit. They was allers cow- 
ardly afterwards, and funky when called upon to do 
anything more. Tiiar’s no dopendiu’ on a man until he’s 
drank blood several times. If Puff brings back a good 
account of himself all right : if not — what then ?” 

“ Then he’d better not show up at all.” 

I believe that in this conversation they referred to tlic 
murder of old Barton, and that they knew Harry had 
something to do with that crime. 

Not long after, I was delighted at seeing Old Ruff rid- 
ing into camp. All gathered around him, and there w'as 
a general exclamation of, “ Whar's Harry ?” 

“ About twelve miles to the north-east, as nigh as 1 
ken reckon,” said Ruff, ” but it mout be about thirteen 
miles, and a little east of north-east.” 

“ How long do you think he’s gwdne to stop thar ?” 
asked Buck. 

“Until he’s carrid away,” replied Ruff, “ and that w^ill 
be by the varmints.” 

“ Why ! is he dead ?” 

“ Dead ? yas, of course he is. Hyar’s his rifle.” 

“ But some cussed fools ken part wdth their guns in a' 
fight, and live for years afterwards,” said Bill. “ Why 
did’nt you bring his head or pluck.” 

“You have my w^ord,” r lied Ruff, “and that’s 
enougii. 

“ AYell ! tell us all about it,” sh,id one of the men. 

“ You, see boys,” continued Ruff, “that Harry has been 
tryiii' in a sneakin’ sort of a wary, to set me agin our ven- 
tuj-e, so ill order to lani for wdiy, I humored him a little, 
and he proposed, this morning after we started, that w'e 


A:^r ARKANSAS TRAVELEE. 


43 


strike across the country to Marion County, and give the 
people notice of who was cornin’. He said they’d give 
us TOore than we could git by stayin’ — that a good action 
sometimes paid better than a bad one. That sounded 
very pretty ; but boys, Old Ruff is not the coon who ken 
ever betray liis friends, unless sartin of makin’ somethin’, 
and I told him so. After that he was afraid to come 
amongst you ; gin. 1 tried my best to make him come back, 
l)iu twas no use, and at last he bolted away, and I had to 
.lolly {lim. 1 called after him for mor’n two miles, in a 
quiet sort of way — then I threatened to shoot his hoss — 
then I threatened to shoot him, but ’twas all no use. I 
saw that lie was determined to leave us all together, and 
I thought 'twas best to stop him. Was I right boys ?*’ 

'• Yas ! yas!! quite right,” answered several. 

“ I fust'shot the hoss — thinkin’ that would bring him to 
reason, i)ut it did’nt. He returned the shot, and the ball 
went threw my hat, and hyar’s the place,'’ continued 
Rufli, showing a round hole in the top ot his tall felt 
hat. “ Then both of us tried to see wli cli could get tlie 
gun loaded tlie quickest. I never, on any occasion, allow 
myself to be beat at that, and ’twas’nt likely T was 
gwine to do rt when I knew he might do some harm if 
I’d let him. Just as he was raisin’ his rifle, I tired, and 
aimed at the third button ot his shirt. I then hastened 
up — took his gun and came hyar.” 

But what was Harry doin’ when you left him ?” ask- 
ed Buck. 

“Titiu’ to stand on his head,” answered Ruff', in a 
tone and manner that made my blood cold, and all the 
others laugh. 

F.vpiy member of the company was indignant at the 
idea of a traitor having been found amongst them, and 
Rult was ' raised by all for what he liad done. Even the 
wolf-iuced Bill seemed to have his suspicion allayed,, 
and to regarrl Ruif as one of the most useful men ot the 
company. 

During- the evening, Ruff managed to avoid im-, al- 
ihongh 1 gave him to understand that I wanted a talk 
with lum. 

I felt as though 1 could, not sleep without learning 
whether he had killed Harry or not. I knew liim to be 
.an honest, kind-hearted man, but one, w-ho in his zeal to 
do what was right, would commit a murder and think 
it no wrong. 


44 


THE ADYENTUEES OF 


During the ewning Huff, with Buck, Bill and two of 
the older members of the company, held a long consulta- 
tion l)y themselves. In the meantime, I was waiting 
with tlie utmost impatience to learn the whole truth 
from li'.c old corapaiiiou who apparently had suddenly 
forgotten me. 

Late that night one of the negroes, wdio was generally 
employed in looking after the horses, came up and spoke 
o me. As he held his liat in liis hauel, I saw tliat lie 
'va-s no longer yoiuig, for “ the capillary substance on the 
summit o{ his cranium,” was of a color worn by white 
sheep, instead of black ones. 

“M Hs'r” said the negro, addressing me. “ Ken you tell 
me enything ’bout Mas'r Harry ? IVe hum dat he’s shot — 
dat he's gone dead. Do you tink it’s troof ?” 

“ I’ve heard so,” I replied, “ and I suppose there is 
some ti iitli ill the story, or Harry would be here.” 

“ Dar’s siithiii’ wrong Mas’r,” continued the negro. 
“Mas’r Harrv nebba start forborne, and leab Ole Block.” 

Who is Block ?” I asked. 

” Dat’s me. When I was young, my head was hard, 
and I had no sense, and dey called me Blockhead. Now 
dey call me Block for short. Mas’r Harry almosc my 
chile. I fed hun when he no bigger dan a possum, and 
when he walk on lour legs like a little dunkey. I fotch- 
ed um up, and he nebba tink of gwine back to Marion 
without Ole Block. Dur’s suthin’ wrong.” 

‘‘ Very likely,” I replied, “ tor I’m told that Harry has 
often clone wrong, and ” 

“ Nebba !” exclaimed the negro, interrupting me, “Mas’r 
Harry got de right from Gor a mighty to do what he 
like, blc Block is but a nigger, but s’elp um heving, 
he’ll line out all a bout Mas’r Harry.” 

The negjio was sliowmg the spirit of a man— something 
that I was not accustomed to witness m those days, and 
1 ordered him off. 

He went away muttering, and not being able to have 
a talk with Ruff, I passed a sleepless night. 




ARIiA^^SAS TRAVELER. 


45 


' ' V- 





CHAPTER XI. 

MY FIRST AND LAST GRIZZLY. 


At the first appearance of daylight the next morning, 
I saddled Pete, and rode down the stfeam to see if I 
could kill something for breakfast. 

In preparing for a start, I made some disturbance, 
thinking if I should awaken Ruff he would accompany 
me, but in this hope I was disappointed. 

I had passed plenty of game while riding over the 
ground a few days before, but I could see nothing worth 
a shot now. All the deer had fled from the neighbor- 
hood invaded by the herd of tamed cattle. 

While riding along, with the rifle lightly grasped in 
one hand, the mule gave a sudden jump, nearly going 
from under me. So unexpected was this start, that I 
was only saved from being thrown by instinctively 
dropping the rifle, and grasping the pummel of the sad 
die. 

On again becoming firmly established in the saddle, 
and gathering in the slack of the bridle reins, I turned 
my head to learn the cause ot Pete’s fright. 

A large bear, with awkward strides and a rolling or 
swinging gait, w as followed close behind the mule, 
which was struggling to increase the distance from the 
object of its terror. 

The ground was very rough, being covered with large 
b 15 ulders, that prevented our making any distance m a 
straight line. 

Snorting and roaring with rage, the bear scrambled 
after us, while Pete, without any urging, stumbled over 
the rocks at a pace that each moment threatened to 
break our necks. 

I had dropped the rifle, and could not use my knife 
Without giving the bear a chance of using its paws. 


46 


TRE ADVENTURES OF 


For a moment I believed myself to be perfectly help“ 
less, and then the fact occurred to me that I was armed 
with a weapon that, in the aiids oi many men of the 
prairies, would prove effective under the difficulty I 
was in. 

Coiled up on the pummel of the saddle was a lariat, 
used for tethering the mule. It was lurnished with .a 
loop, and was, in fact, a Mexican lasso. 

Without fully comprehending what was to be gained 
!)}■ the feat, I seized the bight or loop with one hand, 
.and the coils with the other, and. turning in the saddle, 
succeeded at the first effort in tJirowing the loop over 
the bear’s head. 

About fifty yards of epen space or cleai ground being 
before us, Pete gained a distance that drew the line 
“ taut.” 

The instant the noose liegan to tighten around the 
bear's throat, it exhibited Us reverse nature, by show'- 
ing that it would not accept of any assistance in mov- 
ing towards us. « 

It seized the lariat with its paws, and bad there not 
been two or three close turns around the pummel of 
the saddle, it would have taken full possession of the 
line. 

Such was the power and dexterity of the bear with 
the use of its paws, that the flight of Pete was suddenly 
checked. 

It was not until then that I had a good view of the . 
animal so determined tc' make a nearer acquaintance 
with me. It was not like any uear i !;ad seen before, 
but much larger and more powerful. It’s hair was 
lougcr, more shaggy, and mixed with gray. From wiiai 
I had heard and read. I knew it to be a hc-grizzly— the 
first one I had over seen-— the only one I had ever heard 
of in that part of the world. 

•'ome strange fate had sent it from the Ozark Moun- 
tains to be an actor in the scene I am trying to descrilJb. 

Turning the head of the mule a little to the right, I 
gave it the spur, and bruin was once more brought up- 
on all fours. 

The pursuit and flight again commenced. 

Once when we were chased from a piece of clear 
ground to a space covered with boulders, the mule was 
nearly cuught. A fortunate incident alone prevented 
such 'a catastrophe. 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


4? 


The bear, when rc'cichiug Ibrwhrd one of its hind legs, 
put the paw down on the lariat and not far Irom its 
neck'— as its head was near the ground. 

This retarded its pace for a moment, and gave the 
mule time to recover the space it had lost. 

I thought about dismounting, with the hope that the 
monster would have to follow Pete and allow me to es- 
' oape. 

This plan would have been pfit into immediate oper- 
ation had I not at the instant it was formed, made the 
discovery that I -was on a high and narrow' neck of land, 
a promontory making a long, sharp bend in the stream. 

There was hardly room lor me to allow the grizzly to 
pass, had he turned his attention to me instead of the 
mule. 

I saw that the chase w'ould soon be over, for in about 
one hundred yards farther, the peninsula ettme to a point, 
and we w'ould soon be driven over the steep bank. 

There was but one obje.< r in view suggesting the slight- 
est hope. It was a tree - a dwarf in height yet thick 
enough to bear a large horizontal branch about fifteen 
feet from the ground. 

A flash of inspiration seemed to suggest a plan by 
which I might escape, and not one second was to be lost 
in feting upon it. 

I took the turns of the lariat off the pummel of the 
saddle, and Imd just time to throw' the coils over the 
projecting branch oftim tree. 

The end of the lariat fell down as I was passing un- 
der the branch, and T had to reach back with my left 
hand to seize it. 

The bear was dost; upon us, aiid at each reach of 
its fore legs I was afraid that Pete might suddenly 
stop in his flight. 

By the time I had tuk* n two or throe turns of the 
lariat around the pummel, the bear had got well 
under the branch. 

It could go no fiirthcr, ffo- the slack of the lasso 
had run out, and the gii/zly found himself standing 
on his hind legs, supported upright by a thong around 
his neck. 

When Pete found that he could continue his flight 
no further, he turned sideways, and took an observation 
of what had happened. 

The intelligent animal s imvd to eoiupreiiend at_a 


48 


THE ADVENTXJREB OP 


glance the exact state of affairs, and never yielded one 
inch of the line in the struggl ^ that now took place 
between the grizzly and itself. 

I saw that the mule could be trusted alone, and after 
putting two half liitclies of the lariat around the 
pummel, I dismounted. 

The mule, leaning from the bear, added the greater 
p^rt of the weight of its body against the efforts of the 

rangling animal to move. 

In leaving this scene for a moment, I was obliged to 
I ass close by the grizzly. 

The froth from its foaming mouth flew over me, and 
1 nearly fell over bhe bank in avoiding th blows of its 
long arms. 

Losing not a second of time in the journey, I returned 
with the rifle. Watching lor an opportunity, I put a 
ball into one of the animal’s ears, and, as its struggles 
gradually ceased, Pete yielded enough of the line to 
aliOw it to fall upon the earth, dead. 

Pete was not quite as sensible a creature as I once 
supposed him to be. Ife had tumbled over the brink 
onto me when in the river a few days before, and he 
was now guilty of the folly of being afraid of a dead 
grizzly. 

I was nearly half an hour persuading the mule to 
pass by the body of the bear, and when, at last, I suc- 
seeded, the animal was as quick in performing the act 
as a Cherokee Indian gambler in making the knave 
take the ace in a game of all-fours. 


iJT ABKANSAS TRAYELER. 


49 


CHAPTER XII. 


“ OLE BLOCK.” 

On returning to the camp, I met the cattle and horses 
already on the way, and grazing as they were being 
driven slowly along. At the camp my companions were 
assembled in a group, and, on riding up, 1 saw that they 
were having an altercation with a negro. 

It was “Ole Block,” the man who had spoken to me 
t he night before. 

“ I'm not gwyne with you !” exclaimed the negro, as I 
came near. “I b’longs to Mas’r Harry, and um gwine to 
fine him.” 

Let’s make him go,” said Ruflf, “ H’ll be worth a hun- 
dred dollars in Texas, after helping to drive the cattle 
tbar.” 

“Yes, let’s yoke him with a bull,” said another. “1 
reckon he’ll travel some, then.” 

“ I shall nebber go with you alive, s'elp me heving !” 
continued Block, ‘protesting against the right of any one 
to control his actions. “ If Mas’r Harry’s gone de ad. I’m 
free. I’s been free a longtime. Mas’r Han y's only my 
fr’en’,” 

“ Stop his gab,” cried another. “ Gag him with a 
•buffalo’s skull. Make him chew a lime-stone quid.” 

A shower of blows then fell upon poor Block, but he 
still refused moving on with the others. 

Many people believe that when an African shows the 
least opposition to the will of u white man, that he is 
only displaying the uneducated, obstinate anim; i nature 
of a brute, when the same spirit shown by a wliitc man 
would be evidence ol his claim to be called (,ne ol the 
lords of creation. 

Block showed that he had a will ol his own, and was 


THE ADVENTURES OP 


30 stupidly obstinate as to contend^ sin^fle-handed, 
against all the heartless men by whom he was sur- 
rounded. 

I pressed forward into the crowd, wishing to assist 
him, but afraid to do so, ' 

Whatever my human nature might dictate, early edu- 
cation and blind faith commanded mo to be guided by 
Ruff, for I had not yet lost all confidence or belief in his 
inlallibility. 

I saw the demon, Bill, draw the ramrod from his rifle, 
and with it aim a blow at the venerable-looking head of 
the faithful negro. 

At the same instant Old Ruff threatened to shoot 
Block unless he moved on, and the rifle, “ Mary,” was 
present-.d, as though the threat would be carried into 
immediate execution. 

The blow of the ramrod fell upon the barrel of the gun. 
which I believed was placed to receive it, and I am now- 
happy in recording that such was the case — Rufi" himself 
since told me that he tried to save the negro from liim. 

“ Old Block” broke from his tormentors and fled. 
Some tried to trip him up, some to hold him, and others 
to knock him down, but he cleared, the lot and started 
north — towards the camp we had left the morning be- 
fore. 

Buck, Bill and two others mounted their horses, and 
rode after him at full speed. 

I saw the negro ridden over — knocked down by the 
horses, and trampled under their feet. 

I saw him beaten wdth the butt endg of rifles, and left 
for dead. 

The horsemen returned, apparently pleased that on© 
little difficulty, which had delayed their journey, had been 
overcome. 

An ugly-looking cur, that had been assisting the negro# 
in driving the cattle, now turned back. 

It was a brute that had joined the company with Harry 
Barton and his black companion, and was now looking 
for its master, Block — having probably just discovered 
that that individual was not amongst the otlier drivers 
of the stock. 

In passing by us it “ sniffed ” for a trail, found it, and 
struck off in the direction where “ Old Block ” was 
lying. 

Its actions were discovered by Buck, who, unwilling 


AN AKKANSAS TRAVELEK. 


51 


that the negro sIjouUI have a companion— even that of a 
dog — \)rought his lille to his shoulder and fired. 

The dog, hi oil as at the time about one hundred 
yards away, uttered a yell, picked up one of its legs, and 
continued its course on the other three. The company 
then started south. 

I wished to turn back and see whether the negro was 
dead or not, but Ruff prevented me. 

“ Perhaps Fm on the wrong road,"’ said he, in a low 
voice, “ but I’ll save our folk, if possible, when on the 
way. Tim of onr enemies are gone., but I was willing 
Block should live had he kept with us.’’ 

He would not give me an opportunity of learning any- 
thing more, but left me and joined the others. 


52 


THE ADVENTUKE3 OF 


CHAPTER xnr. 

ON THE WAY. 

About two miles further down the river, _ mvited my 
companions to turn aside, and see my morning’s work. 

They all thought I had done well to slay a grizzly, un- 
der any circumstances, but when I explained to them 
the manner in which I had extricated myself from seri- 
ous danger, and changed a retreat into a victory, all 
were loud in applauding me. It was the first grizzly 
bear that either of them had seen. 

Before leaving the place, Ruff, in a low tone, told me 
to propose skinning the bear, and taking the hide with 
us. 

“Why?’’ I asked, “ we don’t want it.” 

“Never mind,” he replied, “ do asl tell you.” 

“ Who will help me take its hide oft ?” I inquired, 
addressing those around. 

“ What for ? What do you want of it ?” asked 
Buck. 

“ It will be worth five or ten dollars, if taken to a mar 
ket.” 

“ Yes, that’s sartin, but it’s not enough for the trouble, 
but I’m glad to see that you want to make money, and 
il you’ll allers act as much like a man as you hev this 
morning; we’ll show you how to get it. A smart plucky 
young chap like you, ken make money easier, than by 
toting orreen b’ar skins across the Avorld.” 

I could now^ understand why Ruff told me to speak 
about the bear’s hide. He wished his companions to 
think that I wanted money, and was willing to work for 
It. It was necessary for them to believe that I took an 
interest in the result of our expedition. I must have an 
object to be gained by joining in it, or, they would put 
no confidence in me. 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


53 

Old Ruflfwas wiser than I, and I resolved to follow his 
v>r/shes in all things. 

During the ride that day, I had an opportunity of hav- 
ing a long talk with him, and the first thing I wished 
to know, was whether he had really killed Harry Bar- 
ton. 

“ I don’t know,” he replied, when I asked him the 
question direct. 

“Then you tried to kill him.” 

“ No ! not edzactly. I’ll tell you how it was. When 
he said that he w^oiild tell Buck and Bill that we were 
deceivin’ of ’em, and that you were Frank Rosebrook, I 
knowed that somethin’ had got to be done. I could see 
that he meant mischief.” 

“I overtook liim gwine dowm the hill. ‘Harry,’ said I, 

‘ why do you want to die ? You killed your uncle, old 
Barton, and now you want to have your old friend, 
Frank, murdered. What else but death do you expect to 
gain by that?’ Just then we reached the bottom of the 
hill, whar the l)elt of timber was growing, and then we 
heard the sound of a gun, far off up the valley. I sup- 
pose Harry thought the company was in that direction, 
for he started off at full gallop, and I after him. We 
had a chase for about half a mile, when I caught up 
with him, and took hold of the bridle of his hoss. ‘ It's 
no use Harry,’ said I. ‘You’re not gwine to make cny 
row in the camp, and you’re a fool ^r thinkin’ that I’m 
gwine to let you. Stop and let’s have a confab ! I 
thought that some of the company were close by, and was 
determined that he should not speak to eny of ’em, until 
Ave’d had an understanding. 

“It was no use trying to do enything with him, for 
he'd no sense. Fools allers get into difficulties some way 
or other, and Harry was a fool. He had no more sense 
then, than when he killed his uncle.” 

“ ‘Well ! what happened ?’ I asked. 

“ Why he broke away from me, and afraid that he’d 
find Buck, I shot his hoss fust, as I have said. I told 
the truth in the camp, in everything except what Harry 
was shot for.” 

“ ‘But have you really killed him V 

“ I don't knoAV. He ran some distance before he fell, 
but did not appear to know what for.” 

“ ‘But why did'nt you find out whether he was mortally 
wounded or not V 


54 


•THE ADVENTURES OF 


“ Wliat was the use? Hud I went up to him, and 
found that he was not dead, I could not have had the 
heart to finish him, nor could I have done enything for 
him. What’s done could not be helped. We’ve got a 
sartii) duty to do, and we cannot be doin’ wrong in pur- 
forpaing it. When I’m doin’ what I know to be right, 
sicii bad things as Harry Barton, must not stand in ray 
way. People who do eny good in this world have to do 
many things they don’t like, and people who do wrong, 
and those who have no sense, will have to put up with 
some trouble.” 

There was to me something incomprehensibly strange 
in the conduct of Harry Barton. 

Why had he murdered his uncle. The old gentleman 
was very kind to the youth, and denied him nothing. 
Avarice could not have instigated the crime, for Harry 
in some future day, would have had all, or the most of 
the old man's property, much of which, after commission 
of the crime, ho had been compelled to abandon. If the 
few hundred dollars of cash on hand, had tempted the 
youth to murder his uncle, why do he not go to New 
Orleans, or some other city, where the money might 
have been spent in those dissipations, to which so many 
weak-minded country youths aspire. When I joined the 
gang of villains, I was now with, why did he not inform 
them at first that I was deceiving them ? Why did he 
take the silly plan that had brought upon him the fate 
.10 had met ? 

I asked Ruff if he could understand conduct so incon- 
sistent with re.ison or common sense. 

“Thar's nothin’ strange about it,” he answered. “ His 
actions was perfectly simple and natral.” 

“ Indeed ; to me his conduct is most incomprehensible 
and unnatural.” 

“ That s because you are like most other people in the 
world, who think they know somethin’. Because he has 
acted different from what you would have done, then 
you say, ‘ how strange.’ When you see one man nigh 
on seven feet high, aUvl another only four feet somethin 
why don’t you say, ‘ how wonderful.’ The tact is, Frank, 
we’re not all built alike, eyther in mind or body. Harry 
Barton was a wicked fool, and if he'd acted like enything 
else, then you might have reason to say ‘ how strange,’” 

Old Run’s simple way of explaining what to me was a 
dark mystery, has since been of much use to me through 


AN ABKANSAS THAVBLER. 55 

life. It taught me that in every attempt to reaiton, we 
can never reach the desired end. We must not judee 
of the acts of -fools, as though they were those of sensiWe 
men, or they will appear very mysterious and incompre- 
hensible. 

That afternoon we saw a herd of deer feeding on the 
side of a hill far away. I started ofi' with old Ruff, to 
try and kill one for our supper. 

We were followed by Bill. 

On arriving near the deer, we placed a clump of soiall 
trees between us and the herd, and rode within tlirce him 
dred yards of them. Bill and Ruff* then dismounted, niul 
gave me the bridle reins of the horses to liold. I w as 
“the boy,” and consequently obliged to let them have 
their way. 

They then “sneaked” forward, and soon after I li<;u(i 
the report of their rifles— one after the other. I rode tor 
ward leading their horses, and when I came up to them 
Bill was standing over a fine stag, dropped by a shot 
through the side, and struggling with death. 

Drawing a largo knife from its sheath, Bill seized the 
stag’s head, and drew it far back — stretching the neck 
to the utmost. As the knife was buried in the stag’s 
throat, a hidious smile came over the man’s face. The 
wolf-tooth grew broadei-, longer and brighter, and I 
heard him utter the words : 

“ This is the way Til serve old Rosebrooh, 


56 


THE ADVENTURES OF 


CHAPTER XIV. 

DENMAN. 


With the hope that I was not a coward, I was thank- 
ful for the fact that I had sufficient fear to prevent me 
from committing a crime — even when under strong ex- 
citement. 

I heard and saw Bill as he gave an illustration of the 
manner he was going to kill my father. 

The barrel of my rifle was placed on a level with the 
yillain’s head, but the trigger was not drawn. I was 
ifraid — not of Bill — not of any physical harm, but I did 
lot dare to blow the soul of a man into eternity without 
a moment's warning, while that man was helpless to pro- 
tect himself, and with his eyes turned from me. 

My father was far away, and notin immediate danger 
of the man before me, and something seemed to whisper 
tile words, “ not yet.’’ 

This command was backed by another from Ruflf, who 
hastily stepped between us, and, as he did so, I read on 
his features the words, “not yet.” 

From that moment I knew that Bill’s days were num- 
bered, and that he would die by my hands — not for what 
he had already done, but I was certain that he would 
persevere in liis evil intentions until he should be pre- 
vented from carrying them into execution. 

His death w as only a question of a few hours’ time, 
and a strong controversy of opinion arose in my mind as 
to when that time should be. 

I had a right to take his life in order to prevent him 
from committing the crime he contemplated, and I only 
waited for the moment when I could perform that duty 
without afterwards being condemned by conscience tor 
doing a violent deed a few days or hours too soon. The 
time for me to act would be when tlic life olt another was 


AN ABKANSAS TRAVELER. 57 

in immediate danger. That time had not yet come. 

We were not journeying straight towards my native 
county, but going further south, to strike a line leading 
from that county towards Tekas. 

After obtaining what property and revenge they could, 
tbe leaders of our party wished to start direct for the far- 
off land of their destination, and to meet the property al- 
ready acquired, on their way. 

I heard them around the camp-fire one evening talking 
over their plans. 

“ After we’ve got the cattle and horses sate under 
cover of the Sages,” (Ossages), said Buck, “ we’ll take as 
little property into Marion County as possible, and com 
back with as much as we can.” 

“We must take nothing but what can travel fast,” 
said one of the company. “I, for one, don’t mean to be 
caught by a troop of planters. They’ve no mercy on a 
poor devil in distress.” 

“ How do you know ?” asked Buck. 

“ Because I met ’em in a rage once.” 

“ Tell us all about it.” 

“ Yes, yes, all about it !” echoed two or three more; 

The person called upon was known to the company 
under the name of Denman. 

He was a tall, thin man, with a serious-looking face, 
yet, was possessed of more wit and humor than any other 
man in the com2:)any. 

The few words I heard him speak proved that he was 
better educated than either of the other associates, and I 
could see that he was a man who had lived much amongst 
“ the busy haunts of men.” 

“ I’ve got no love lor planters,” said Denmnn, as he 
commence his story , “ and I’ve no objection to telling 
you why. I’m a queer man — a very queer man, and there 
are many things I dislike as well as planters. Now, I 
don’t care anything about money. 

“ I never had a desire to save money, and since child- 
hood ever spent every red cent as soon as I could, and 
yet I’ve always been getting into trouble for my haste in 
trying to obtain money. 

“ When I was a young man, and living Dov/n-East, I 
was put in a place of business with a ma» who did not 
know what money was made for. He thought that it was 
to be hoarded up, instead of being used a circulating 
medium. I tried to teach him different, and was advised 


58 


THE ADVENTUBES OF 


to travel West. I’ve been moving West for the last twenty 
years — (iiiven back by the persecutions of a greedy, 
avaricious, dollar-worshiping people. But this is not" 
telling you about the planters. 

“About three years ago I reached a small village in 
the interior of the State, and saw that it was a good lo- 
cation for business. 

“ Some people are always toiling and scheming for 
money, reputation, position in society, or some other 
selfish motive, but this was not the case with me wlieii I 
took up my abode in that village. 1 was merely tired of 
traveling, and stopped to rest, but I was obliged to do 
something for a living. 

“I saw there was a chanc'> to run a bank in the place, 
there being only one established there, and banks, like 
lawyers, do not thrive well without a little opposition. 

“ With the assistance of a lawyer in the village, and 
two weak-minded planters in the neighborhood, the 
bank was soon organized. Our notes "were larger than 
those of the opposition bank, and were pretty pictures to 
look at. Six female figures were represented upon them, 
with hardly a rag on. The notes, in bright blue letteis, 

bore the words ; “ The Planter s Bank, of .” They 

flew beautifully, but, wlien they began to come back, 
there was not even a wild-cat skin in the bank to redeem 
them with. T did not exchange those beautiful notes 
for any other more valuable property, as some would 
have done, and when the smash came I w^as still a poor 
man, yet, many said that I liad robbed them. 

“The planters, for fifteen miles around, held a meet- 
ing, at which one of them made an eloquent speech. He 
said that whenever a publican, a grocer, a carpenter and 
blacksmith started in business for the benefit of them- 
selves and the neighboring population, a parcel of thieves 
came to the place, called it a “ flourishing village,” built 
offices, and commenced robbing all in the county, and 
as mauy as possible out of it. They p.assed a resolution 
for cleaning out the village. 

“ Two or three gamblers, who lived by winning money 
of the planter's sons at playing ‘ Euchre ’ and ‘ Poker,* 
a lawyer, an .auctioneer and a Mormon preacher were 
told to leave, and, w^ould . you believe it ? they said I 
must go too. I protested against this in the name of the 
American Eagle, and the ‘ gridiron,’ but it was no use. 
When they found I would not travel on a hint, they made 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


59 


me travel on a mule, ^vith my face towards the tail.” 

“ What do you expect to do when you get to Texas ?” 
asked Buck, whe» Denman had finished his story. 

“1 don’t kno%. It is too soon t(> +h ink about that 
yet.” 

“You had better run a churcli, as you would call it.” 

“ No, not in a new country, Miiere po^ople are poor and 
trying to rise in the world. A parson there has to fare 
hard like the rest of them. The way to work a congre- 
gation to advantage is to start a new sect where sociel v 
has been established lor some time — where hard-toi!ing 
lools have died and left rich widows, and where trades- 
men are suffering for respectability. War or politics 
will be the best paying games in Texas.” 

“You’re a man of some education,” said Buck, “ and 
I’ve often wondered why you joined such an ignorant 
pack of thieves and robbers as us.” 

“Because I wish to live where there is no money — 
where I cannot get into trouble. Now, I’ve been with 
you more than a jrear, and had I known that you had ten 
dollars in money in your pockets, I should have stolen it, 
purchased something of you with the money, stolen it 
again, and kept myself and the camp in a worry and 
commotion night and day about that ten dollars. Ten 
thousand people on an island by themselves, and having 
a circulating medium of ten red cents, will be eternally 
scheming, cheating, lying, thieving and murdering each 
other for a share of that paltry sum. Take the money 
from them and they will live happy.” 

“ That’s a fact,” said Buck. “ See what hundreds of 
crimes we are not guilty of because we have no money. 
We don’t pick pockets, as they do in New Orleans, or 
use false weights or measures. We don’t sell strong 
drink, to ruin our fellow-creatures. We are not law- 
yers, nor quack doctors. Thar’s hendreds of crimes we 
don’t commit.” 

“ Thar, tliar ! that’ll do,” exclaimed Bill,” you’re 
makin’ me quite disgusted with our way •f livin’.” 


60 


THE ADYENTUKES OS 


■ ♦ 

CHAPTER XV 

THE FEAST. 

Eight days after leaving the camp, we reach a tribe, 
or part ot a tribe of Ossage Indians. 

Buck and Bill vere acquainted with several of the 
principal men of the tribe, and nlso met with two white 
men, who were living with it. 

The Indian, who seemed to be the highest in authority, 
was a tall, fine-looking fellow, whose only article of dress 
was a superfine black cloth trock coat, which he informed 
us was a present from his friend, Colonel Yell. This 
gentleman who called himself General Pike, had not the 
slightest doubt of his being one of the most important 
men in the world. He had heard of President Jackson, 
whom he acknowledge to be first. Colonel Yell was also 
something to the world, but neither of these men were 
of so much importance amongst the Ossages as himself, 
and General Pike respected himself accordingly. Buck 
and Bill he only recognized as Itimtcrs and trappers, and 
treated them with a familiar patronizing way tliat must 
have made them quite proud of themselves. 

The two white men in the tribe, were two ot the most 
dirty, lazy wretches ever seen, and I formed a very con- 
temptable opinion of the tribe, for allowing such worth- 
less creatures to remain unhanged amongst them. 

They were despised by the Indian men of the camp, 
and Avere only treated well by the dogs, and some of the 
squaws. Because they Avere folloAving no occupation for 
a living, they seemed to fancy themselves as respectable 
as the Indians, As though related to a royal family, 
they were quartered on the nation, and kept out of char- 
ity, having too little of the proper spirit of men, to take 
care of themselves. 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER, 


61 


As in all similar cases, they ^’ere conceited and arro- 
gant in proportion to their worthlessness. 

After treating ns to a little negect^ the two came up 
and demanded some tobacco. 

“ Don’t have anything to say to them,” said Denman, 
“ for it we treat them half as well as we do the dogs about 
the camp, the copper hides will think us no better than 
they are, and will treat us no better.” 

“ That’s so,” replied Buck, “ for they’re only varmints 
—skunks — the meanest cusses that ever walked on two 
legs.” 

“ Be off with you,” cried Buck, turning to the two 
men. “ What business have sneaks like you with ter- 
backer ? It was made for men — not for skunks.” 

The two men slunk back a few paces, like beaten 
hounds. 

“Look at ’em,” said Bill, “ don’t they look as though 
natur was ashamed of ’em ?” 

General Pike and his followers, had the wdsdom to 
, know that we had not sought them without the inten- 
tion of gaining something by doing so, and were all de- 
termined to profit by the occasion. 

The general gave instructions that wr. should be enter- 
tained with a dinner. We were invited to partake of 
the hospitality of the nation — an invitation we were 
obliged to accept by giving two cattle for the feast. 

The cattle were killed— several fires were lighted, and 
the feast commenced. 

There were on an average of two women to one man-- 
six children to every wife, and three half starved dogs 
to every man, woman, and child in the camp. 

The bones of the cattle were passed from the men to 
the women — from the women to the children, and from 
them to the dogs, and after having been the round of the 
camp, they were seen shining on tlie plain, bright and 
white as an ivory cross,. suspended on the bare bosom of 
a n egress. 

The two white men living with the tribe, participated 
in the feast along with some of the favorite dogs, and a 
few of the most abandoned women. They took what 
was thrown to them, 

A bottle or two of whisky had been reserved for the 
occasion, and was shared between General Pike, Buck, 
Bill and Denman — the General taking either the lion, or 


<32 


THE ADVENTURES OF 


doaky's share, 'which in either case was much the larg- 
est. 

Before the evening was over he was in excellent humor, 
and expressed the hope that we might often partake ot his 
hospitality. 

Late in the evening tiierc was a niisunderstanding ije 
tween the chief and some nude relative of his principal 
wife, 

I/ike many people wiio have risen to some importance 
i n Europe, tlie chief had not acquired his eminence by 
ti "role deeds of arms — by statesman —ship or any other 
jualities that exhibit a display of genius — he had arriv . 
ed at greatness by marrying — a simple method ; but one 
that genious abhors. 

There was a male relative ot the wife who felt himself 
aggrieved by having been supplanted in power by 
another. 

He had long been on the verge of rebellion, and on the 
night of our visit he fell over it, and there was a civil war 
between two. I saw the beginning of the war, and its 
decisive combat. It commenced with words, and raged 
for sometime with merciless and terrific force. 

So much natural eloquence have the red-men of the 
prairies, til at, without knowing their language, I could 
understand the meaning of nearly all they said. 

In this wrangle I first learnt to fully comprehend the 
superiority of my mother tongue over other languages. 

Whenever either ot the combatants w ished to use pro- 
fane or obsc ene language, they spoke English. They had 
to swear in English or swear not at all. 

I could understand that appeals were made to little 
and great spirits. Similis were used uniting and com- 
paring all that was great and beautiful, little and evil, 
above and below, with each other, but no satisfactory 
understanding could be reached. The animosity was too 
great, and the points of misunderstanding of too much 
importance to be settled by words alone, and they came 
to more active warfare. 

In his communications 'vvith white men. General Pike 
had learnt that a bowie knife was an indespensible arti- 
cle for a gentleman to carry. He had probably heaad 
that no man on tlie borders was not fully dressed without 
one. 

Gracefully raising his right hand, and placing it under 
the collar of his coat at the back of his neck, he with- 


AK ARKANSAS TRAYELBB. Q6 

drew it, grasping a No. 2 knife, flie weight of which i?- 
two and a half pounds. 

His oppon^ent was, for an Indian, very short and stout, 
and had heavy arms, that evidently possesse d great 
strength. 

He retreated before the knife, but only a ferr inch<& 
beyond its reach, apparently undecided how to act. 

He had a conftiderate or friend — one wlio would i. 

eiilm retreating unarmed before his rival, and han.b . 
him a bow' and arrow. While the latter woas placed • i 
Tiio string, the former was raised on a level wiHi 
face. 

The long, strong bow was bent until the two eiui.^ 
were not more than half the distance apart they w ( k 
when it was placed in his hands. At that moment th:- 
string snapped, and nearly at the same instant the l.'ow 
dropped to the earth — the featheicd or beam end of the 
arrow was buried in the socket of one of the Indian’s 
eyes. 

'fhe weapon had been awkwardly handled by ih? 
strong arm of one who, while determined on takinu a 
deadly aim, had moved the arrow the wrong way. 'tin- 
powerful arm had done its w'ork too w’ell. 

General Pike discontinued his assault, and with a hid- 
eous smile on his features, saw the arrow withdrawn from 
the sightless eye ot his wounded rival. 

The man must have suffered intense agony, but he bore 
it with fortitude and calmness that astonished every 
white man present. Like others of his race, he did not 
become frantic either with rage or pain, as most v hite 
men would do. 

He had been defeated by liis ov n carelessness or folly, 
and submitted to fate with the composure and dignity 
that only the most noble by nature can exhibit. 

I was expecting to seethe chief show a little of that 
ruthless and revengeful spirit the Indians are said to 
]K>ssess, blit he did not. Perhaps he knew that his 
rival ivas suffering much agony from the result of tho 
conflict, and, pleased with this knowledge*, was satisfied ^ 
for the time. 

This encounter ended the feast, and each of us retired 
to his blankets. 


64 


THB ADYENTURE9 OF 


CHAPTER XVL 

1 

3 

A SEPARATION. i 

During the absence of the party on the expedition to 
Marion County, two white men, with all the negroes but 
one, were to be left in charge of the cattle on the plains. 

It was unanimously decided that one of the men left 
in care of the negroes and cattle, should be either Buck, 
Bill, Ruff or Denman. 

Buck and Bill, both declared that they couki uot think 
of stopping. They were going to Marion County after 
revenge as well as property, and they could not trust 
their business to others. They preferred leaving Ruff in 
care of the property left behind to any other man of the 
company, but Ruff swore, as no other man could swear, 
that he would go in the expidition. 

Denman consented to stop if all the others were 
agreeable. 

“ I care nothing about your revenge,” said he, “ and 
in fact I want nothing to do with, it. I am going to 
Texas, and want some company on the road and a little 
property to start with when I get there, and I’ll take 
good care of the niggers and cattle, while you are gone. 

I only want a share of the property you bring back, and 
not the trouble of getting it.” 

His offer was accepted, and the next business to be 
settled was that of deciding on who should stop with 
him. 

No other person volunteered to stop with them, all 
emphatically declaring that they would go in the expe. 
dition to Marion County. 

“ Let me settle this affair,” said Buck, “ now hyur’s 
Mr. Frank Jones,” he continued, turning to me, “he’s 
but lately joined us, and as he’ll expect to share in all the 
plunder, he should try to be agreeable in order to earn 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 65 

his whack. I propose that he stops with Denman. 
What do yon say, Ruff, aren’t that far ?” 

Yes, quite fa’r,’” answered the old hunter who knew 
that I would never consent to stay. 

All eyes were turned towards me. 

“ Ruff,” said I, addressing my old companion, “ I’ve 
traveled more than three hundred miles to find yon, and 
I’m not going to lose you now. Where you go, I do.” 

“We have all got to be guided by some fair law,” 
said Denman, “ and I’ll tell you how this dispute can be 
settled without any one having the slightest cause of 
complaint. It is acknowle dgcd by all, that Buck, Bill, 
Ruff and myself, may go or stay as we chose. I have 
chosen to stay, and let the others deside by lot, as to 
which shall stay with me.” 

Everyone declared that this arrangement was “ fa’r,” 
and Ruff and I w^ere obliged to agree with them. 

Denman undertook to manage the lottery, and placed 
as many linden leaves in his hat as there were persons 
to stand a chance in the result. On one of the leaves 
was faintly scratched the letter “ S ” for stop. 

I was the second one who put a hand in the liat to 
draw out a leaf, and the one I abstracted was the fatal 
letter. 

I w^asto stay with Denman. Had Ruff and I shown 
any firm resolution to counteract this decision, we w^ould 
have incurred the suspicion of all the company. Hot 
one of the others would have made the slightest objec- 
tion to staying after the decision that had been made, 
neither must I. 

All business was considered as settled, and prepara- 
tions were immediately commenced for the departure of 
the expedition, which w^as to start early the next morn- 
ing. 

During the evening Ruff found an opportunity of 
whispering a few words to me. 

“ Of course you’re not gwine to stop hyar until they 
kim bark,” said he, “ for you now understand what’s to 
be did as well as I do, and have a most as much sense 
to guide yourself. You must overtake us afoie we get 
to Marion County, pass us unseen, and get home first. 
How you are to do it, and how you are to help me, I 
leave to you. My advice is wuth nothin’, for you’ll have 
to act accordin’ to sarcumstances. Don’t stay with 
Denman to long, only for a few hours, for we shall 
travel fast for it,” 


66 


THE aDVEHTUEES OF 


This was the only insti uctions I received from Rutf 
for early the next morning the party left for my child- 
hood's home on a murderous errand ; and at the same 
time accompanied by Denman, I followed the negroes 
who were driving the stock onto a prairie one day’s 
march beyond the Ossage camp. I was deserting nw 
family — leaving it to the care of Fate and old Ruff, 
bnt what was to be done ? The least hesitation on my 
part, at present, and Ruff and I might be killed. 

During our day’s march «’ith the cattle, my thoughts 
were anything but pleasant. 

A company of blood-thirsty, murderous, theiving 
wretches were traveling towards my home where all that 
was near and dear to me were living. They were going 
for the express purpose of murdering and plundering my 
people, and I was moving away from them. 

It was true Old Ruff was with them, and he could be 
trusted for all that one man could possible do in a good 
cause, but after hem-ing what Bill had said on cutting 
the throat of the stag, I could not place my hope on one 
alone. There were many w^ays how accidents might 
happen preventing Ruff from doing as he might wish. 

Instinct, duty, inclination, everything commanded me 
to leave Denman and follow tlie party who haa gone to 
the “ settlements.” I wished to turn back that day, but 
should I do so, Denman might also overtake the party 
to see whether I joined it or not. Should I start the 
next morning, the party would be nearly two days 
march ahead of me, nnd I would have no time to lose in 
overtaking it before the scoundrels reached the vicinity 
of my home. 

I could not possibly wait longer than the next moru' 
ing, but how should I then escape from Denman ? Would 
he oppose my leaving him with the same murderous 
determination that I would be sure to meet with Buck 
or Bill ? 

Should I abscond from him, would he leave all, pur- 
sue and overtake the party, perhaps before me ? These 
and a thousand other questions crossed my weary mind, 
nearly driving me distracted. 

Whatever might be the result of the effort to onc^ 
more place mysell in the vicinity of Bill, it must be 
made, and that immediately. 

Already conscience and fear began to torture me for 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


6? 


having lost sight of the rufiiaii who had sworn to miir 
der mv relations. 

In the evening we reached the banks of a small stream, 
on which I -was told we were to camp until the return 
of our companions. 

Early the next morning I arose, determined to leave 
Denman peaeefully if I could, forcibly if I must. Some- 
thing told me that I had done wrong in coming with 
him thus far, but Ruff and 1 w^ere acting under peculiar 
cirru instances. Had I refused to obey the decision of 
the party, suspicious might have been excited that might 
^ have led to the discovery of my being a native of Marion 
County. 

Such a discovery would have led to the destruction ot 
our dearest hopes, and probably to Ruff and I being 
shot. 


68 


THE ADVENTURES OF 




CHAPTER Xm 

I COMMENCE A JOURNEY ALONE. 


Before sunrise the next morning the negroes were 
started off on the plain, to look after the cattle, and I 
was left with Denman. 

“ I expect the boys will have a fine lot of plunder 
when tliey come back,” said he, ‘‘ but it will be hard 
work for us to stop here for two weeks waiting for 
them.” 

‘‘ It will, indeed,” I replied, pleased that he had 
broached the subject on which I was anxious to speak, 
“and I have strong doubts as to whether my patience 
can endure so long.” 

“ Why, you don’t think of leaving me, do you ?” he 
asked, with an expression of great surprise. 

I summoned all my resolution, and prepared for a 
scene. 

A sleepless night passed in meditating on the danger 
that threatened my home, had made me impatient to be 
off, and I was determined to start that morning. 

I first saw that, my knife was in the sheath by my side, 
and then carelessly placed my hand on the rifle, fully re- 
solved that should a war arise between us, I should lose 
no advantage through not being ready. 

“ I certainly do,” I replied, in answer to his question. 
“ I’m going to leave you this morning — being determined 
to cut all connection with the villains who left ua 
yesterday.” 

Denman, who was sitting by the fire, sprang to his feet, 
and advanced towards me. 

“ Hold !” I exclaimed, stepping back, and bringing my 
rifle to my shoulder. 




AN AEKAN-^AS TRAVELER. 


60 


^*■1101(1 yourself/’ he replied, as a broad emilo broke 
over his features, “ and don’t bo a fool, but give me your 
hand. “You’ve expressed my sentiments exactly. While 
they are traveling one way, let us move the other. We 
can reach Texas a month before them, and take all the 
property with us. Lot us start immediately.” 

“ Ko, I’m far enough south,” I answered. “ Fm tired 
ot a life on the prairies, and shall go back to ISlissouri.” 

“ I believe you intend following your old friend, Ruff,” 
said Denman, and, as he spoke, a sti’angc and disagreea- 
ble expression came over his tace. “ If I thought that, 
^ you should not leave the place alive, for I have said too 
,/ much.” 

I told him that had I been allowed to accompany the 
party, I should have done so until I got near the settle- 
j’-ents, and no further, and that I should be afraid to 
join them now. 

“ I don’t know whether it will make much odds to me 
'vhether you do or not,” he replied, after a moment’s 
pause, “fori shall have a good two weeks’ start, and 
Buck will blame you for leaving me, quite as much as he 
'’an me for not waiting. Run after them and say that I 
liave turned traitor, if you dare.” 

In less than half an hour I was ready for a start. There 
were plenty of horses ui the drove that should have been 
able to perform a long and rapid journey in less time 
j than Pete, but though fully believing that time was as 
valuable. to me as life itself, I would not leave the mule. 
For the reason that I had a difficult feat to perform, 1 
required the assistance of an animal of whose qualities I 
wus certain — one upon whom I could depend lor doing 
something. 

Pete was now like an old friend, and I determined that 
we should work together in my efforts to save my 
family. 

As I was about to start, a row took place between 
I Denman and one of the negroes — a young black whom 
Buck bad a year before persuaded to abscond from his 
servitude on a plantation , and live an idle life on the 
prairies. 

I had noticed that Buck had ever spoken to the young 
darky in a pleasant tone— that he sometimes gave him a 
drink ot whisky, and at other times a pipe of tobacco. 

“Frank!” exclaimed Denman, appealing to me, “this 


70 


THE ADVENTURES OP 


young bull African refuses to move on with the cattle. 
What shall I do with him ?” 

“ Yes, Mas’r Frank,” said the negro, whose name was 
Sam, “you kno#sMas'r Buck say we stop heah till he 
come, and why lor we go on to Texas and leab him ?” 

“ Then I shall go there, and ‘leab’ your black carcass 
here,” replied Denman, “ and I’m not going to give you 
much time to decide as to which it shall be.” 

Fi om the appearance of the other negroes they seemed 
quite willing to move on at once. 

' They had been promised their freedom in Texas, and 
were quite willing to go and take it withont any further 
delay. 

Two of them were busy packing up the cooking uten- 
■sils and other camp furniture, and the others were start- 
ing off the herd in a southwest direction. 

I waited a few minutes to see how the dispute between 
Denman and the negro would end. 

Sam objected to the cattle being driven away, and de- 
clared that they were partly the property of his master, 
Whose rights he was left to protect. 

He appealed to the other negros to assist him, but they 
paid no attention to his entreaties. 

Undoubtedly they preterred starting for Texas under 
one master, than to be bullied on the way by half a 
dozen, and instinct would teach the most of them to pre- 
fer Denman for a master to Buck and Bill, 

Denman at last got in a rage, and proceeded to vio- 
lence. 

He picked up a stick, and commenced beating Sam 
over the shoulders, and ordering him to move on with 
the others. 

Common sense told him that unless he proved victori- 
ous now, he would never succeed in governing the others 
through a long journey. Sam must either be conquered, 
or killed. 

After receiving three or four blows, Sam made a rush 
for Denman’s rifle, which was leaning against a tree. 

The gun was seized, and presented towards its 
owmer. 

“ ’Top, Mas’r Denman !” yelled Sam, “ or by the Gor 
A’mighty I shoot you.” 

There was something in the negro’s tone and manner 
that showed him to lie in earnest. Denman could see 
this, and wisely halted. He was no coward, but he be- 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


71 


lieved that a negro, acting luuler the influence of that 
spirit which the planters call “ obstinacy,” when found 
in blacks, can sometimes act like a man. 

“ Frank !” exclaimed Denman, “give me your rifle.” 

Had I complied with this demand, he would not have 
made the slightest hesitation in shooting the negro, who 
was resisting his authority. 

I did not wish to see an act like that, and refused to 
let him have the gun. 

When the row between Denman and Sam commenced, 
I had already mounted the mule for a start, ;uid as 1 saw 
the former rushing towards me, evidently for the purpose 
of seizing my rifle, I gave Pete a taste of the spurs, and 
my journey commenced. 

While listening to the controversy between them, I was 
reflecting at the same time on the fact that Buck and 
Bill would have two days the start of me in the race for 
Marion County. 

I was impatient to be off, and the curiosity to learn the 
termination of the dispute was conquered by the knowl- 
edge that one minute’s unnecessary delay might be the 
cause of my suffering life-long regret. 

The last I saw of Denman he was shaking his fist at 
me as I rode away, and the last I heard of his noise wtis 
a horrible oath in cursing me for deserting him, 

I did not stay to learn how the dispute with. Sam end- 
ed. Curiosity was conquered by duty. Denman's 
schemes and diflSculties, and Sam’s dog-like fidelity to 
Buck was nothing to me. My business was to rc'nch 
Marien County as soon as possible. Pete’s opinion on 
the business of the hour was apparently in accordance 
with mine, and the camp and its unhappy inmates were 
soon left tar 


THE* -A.DVSNTURa3 Q5 




CHAPTER XVIIL 

TWO “ VAHMINTS.” 

Our march with the cattle the day before had been 
very slow, and a little before noon on the day of my de- 
parture from Denman, I found myself in the neighlx)r- 
hood of the Ossages. 

Not thinking it prudent for me to attempt passing 
througii the camp alone, I turned to the right to describe 
a halt circle and go around it. 

I had bright hopes of getting ten or fifteen miles be- 
yond the Ossage camp that afternoon, and gain that dis- 
tance in the time that I had lost by being unfortunately 
chosen in the lottery as the companion of Denman. 

At a time which I judged to be about three o’clock in 
the afternoon, I reached a grove by a small rill, and re- 
solved to give Pete a rest and a feed, as some prepara- 
tion for a long ride in the cool of the evening. 

I tethered the mule in a place where the grass had 
risen with a rapid growth and was fresh and tender, 
and then sought for “forty winks,” in the shade of the 
grove. I was not afraid of sleeping too long, for the 
mental anxiety which was upon me was too strong for 
that. 

When I began to awaken, I was suddenly aroused by 
a human voice, 

Tlje words, “ look out Abel— don’t let him git up,” 


iiJ arkassab travklkb. tg 

fell upon tny 'jars in the most abominable twang ever 
heard. 

The tone in which the words were uttered, expressed 
ignorance, fear, all, and everything that we hate. 

I rose to a sitting posture, and saw before me tlie two 
wretches whom I had seen two days before at the Indian 
camp. 

• Now is your time, Abel, ’ said the varmint ” who 
had first spoken. “ Don’t let him get up. Keep hini 
down. I’d shoot him.” 

I saw that before disturbing me, the two cowardly 
wretches had taken possession of my rifle and knife. 

They were both armed, and I was wholly at their 
mercy. I knew that they were bad men — that no moral 
feeling could restrain them from any crime that avarice 
or other evil propensities might dictate. 

There was, however, one source of hope. As I turned 
my eyes from one to another, I saw that, notwithstand- 
ing my helpless condition, they w’ere afraid of me. 
They wore more fr ghtened than I was. 

The mule and its trappings— my rifle and other prop- 
erty were valuable prizes to worthless objects like them 
— prizes for which they would not have hesitated in 
giving me a dose of poison, but they had not th:e cour- 
age to sec my blood flowing. They dared not tt> lift a 
hand at me while I was looking at them. 

“You tie his hands, Ephe,” said the one with the gun, 
“and if he don’t let you do it quietly, I’ll shoot him.” 

Ephe went where the saddlo and my bundle were 
lying — took the leather thong that held my blanket in 
a roll, and then advanced tow'ards me. 

My inactivity was giving them confidence. Though 
quite sure that they had not the courage to kill me 
outright, I believe that they w’ould let me starve to 
death, tied to a tree, sho uld I allow them to do so. 

I had tlie most fear of Abel with the gun, for he was 
trembling so much that I was afraid, should ho place a 
finger on the tiUgger, he might do me some harm. lie 
came nearer, and covering my head wdth the muzzle of 
the rifle, in a trembling voice ordered me to remaiii 
quiet. 

Ephe then attempted to seize one of my hands. At 
that instant I made the discovery that the hummer of 
the rifle was not on full cock, and I sprang upwards 
and seized the barrel pointed towards me. 


^4 


THE ADVENTURES OF 


I had just succeeded in getting possession of the gun, 
when, from some unseen hand, came a blow that seemed 
to smash my head like a fallen egg, and all my knowl- 
edge of what was going on around me, suddenly de- 
parted. 

On regaining my senses, I found myself lying in a hut 
at the Ossage camp, where I had been two days before. 

I afterwards learned that while insensible, I had lain 
across the mule’s back, and brought into the village by 
two squaws. One of them had knocked me down with 
a big stick to prevent me from killing the two white 
brutes, one of whom was living under her protection. 

Instead of killing me as they were ordered to do by 
the men, the squaws took me and my property to Q-en- 
eral Pike. 

The sun was just setting, when I came again into pos- 
session of a memory, and I must have been more than 
two hours insensible. 

Some children gave me a calabash of water, and 
something resembling bread, which I believe was made 
of acorns 

While partaking of this repast, I was visited by Abel 
and Ephe, the two ‘‘varmints.” 

“ I say, Mister, I reckon you’ve had a putty narrer 
escape,” said Ephe. “If it hadn't ben for my friend, 
Abel, partly assisted by me, them she devils would have 
killed you, sartin.” 

“ Yes, Ephe and I had hard work to perfect you agin 
’em,” said the other. “ My friend Ephe here is one of 
the best fellows in the world. He won't harm a 
mosquitor.” 

“ No nyther would Abel,” said Ephe, “ for he’s one of 
the kindest men that ever lived. He’s ben prayiir- to 
Genera! Pike to spare you ever since we made the wo 
men bring you in. We found you a sneaking around 
the camp instead of coming into it That looked bad, . 
and yet we didn’t try tor to harm you.” 

“ You are two miserable, cowardly wretches,” I ex- 
claimed, and I doift want anything to say to you. '' 

“ Now that’s . what I call uncommon unkind,” said 
Ephe. “How different a good noble-hearted man 
Avouldact. If you was generous and grateful as you 
should 1)6, and knowing all we have done for you, Pm 
sure you’d give Abel your rifle.” 

“ And if you knew^ how hard Ephe fought to save yo 


AN AKKAN8AS TRAVELER. 


75 


from those mad squaws,” said Abel, “ you’d give him 
your mule and saddle. I know you would. My poor 
father (heaven bless his soul) used to say there was no 
crime so base as that of ingratitude.” 

Never before meeting these men had I come across 
anything that so suddenly and thoroughly aroused my 
hatred. 

Without seeing them, I could not have believed that 
there existed creatures to vile. 

They were annoying me. 

y In truth the very sight of such wretches, or the voice 
' of either, was quite suflScient to drive me with my ach- 
ing head into a raging fever. 

By the whining, begging manner in which they had 
come to me, I knew that I was no longer in their power ; 
that they could neither steal from, or rob me. 

This being the case, I would not let them annoy me. 

On lifting my head from the earth in trying to rise, I 
was astonished at the fancy that its size could not be 
much less than a load of hay, and that its weight was 
too great for me to carry about. 

The two “ varmints ” on seeing me trying to rise, 
stepped back, but when my head fell to the earth, they 
smiled and came forward. 

In the weak and wounded state I was in, they would 
/ certainly have driven me mad, had not General Pike 
come to my aid. 

On seeing him approaching, both attempted to sneak 
away, but I was pie ased to see that the mild and gen- 
tle Abel did not succeed in doing so without taking 
away a mark of the general’s -'displeasure, in shape of a 
cut across the forehead, with the back of the bowie 
knife I have before mentioned. 

The general could speak a little English, and in a stern 
manner wished to know why I had deserted the duty 
•/^to which I had been appointed by his friend Buck. 

I told him that the other man and the negroes had 
disobeyed instructions, and were driving away the cat- 
tle where Buck could not find them, and that I was 
hastening to Buck to let him know the news. 

This satisfied him, and he gave me to understand 
that as I had partaken of his hospitality but a short 
time before, I was free to go now — that it was con- 
trary to his principles to feed a man one day and rob 
him the next. 


79 


THE ADVENTURES OV 


He , told me that all my property should be restored 
to me, and that I could leave wlien I pleased. 

He then asked me, in a confidential tone, if it was 
true that I had started on a long, rapid journey with- 
out any whisky or tobacco. 

I told him that I never used either, and with an ex- 
pression of intense disgust on his features, the general 
left me. 


AEKAjrSAS TRAVELEB, 


7 ? 


CHAPTER XI2L 

SAIL 

My anxiety to start again on the road was so great, 
that I believe it had much to do in keeping me too HI 
to move until the afternoon of the next day. 

Several times I got up with the hope that I might be 
able to resume my journey, but after getting onto my 
feet, my head seemed a satellite of the earth revolving 
rapidly around it, and I was obliged to lie down ngain. 

It was not until twenty-four hours after receiving the 
blow' from the squaw, that I could trust myself on the 
back of the mule. 

When I was preparing to start, the tw’O “ sneaks” were 
present w’ith most of tlic tiibe, that turned out of their 
huts TO w’itn ss my departure. 

“ Look at him Ephe,” sjiid the gentle / bel, pointing 
with one of Ins dirty hands towards me. “’A'int he a 
mean cuss ? He s not worth a chor of terbr.ckt r.” 

“ I’ve hearn that a squaw whipped him in a fair fight,’’ 
said Ephe. 

Had I not been conquered by a squaw', I should havo 
disarmed and killed the pair of them, yet they could 
jeer me for want of manlitiess. 

They w'cre unworthy of an answer, and without mak- 
ing them any reply, I once more commenced my journey 
towards home. 

The full moon arose as the sun went down, and I made 


78 


THE ADVENTURES , or 


a dretance of about twenty -four miles that night before 
camping. 

After tethering the mule, and building a large fire, I 
ate a piece of jerked vension, and laid down with the 
determination of starting again by the first appearance of 
dawn. 

I had but very little sleep the night before, and feeling 
still rather dull and stupid from the effects of the blow 
given by the squaw, I fell into a profound slumber, and 
did not awaken until the sun was more than two hours 
liigli the next morning. I had lost nearly three hours 
of the best part of the day for traveling. 

I was ashamed of myself. My anxiety to aid my fam- 
ily seemed all a sham. It could not keep me from sleep- 
ing longer in the morning than any lionest man should 
do. 

I was constantly losing time, through my own folly 
and stupidity, and my annoyance at this made me guilty 
of another folly. During the day I strove to make Pete, 
by his exertions, atone for my neglect. 

So little mercy had I on the poor brute, that 'before 
sunset it was quite done U2), and I was obliged to stop. 

That night I finished my sleep early, and was impa- 
tiently waiting for a little more light, to enable me to 
commence my journey. 

I W’^as lying with my face towards the mule, which, 
although about ten yards away, could only be faintly seen 
through the mist of the night. 

I had heard it for some time cropping the grass, and 
then noticed that this sound was growdng less distinct. 
The animal also appeared to be sloAvly moving fiirther 
away. 

It w' as certainly becoming less distinct to my view— 
either for the reason that its distance from me was in- 
creasing, or because the night was becoming darker. 

I watched the sl()wl/-fading form of the mule, until 1 
was certain that it had drawn tlie peg by w^hich tlie lariat 
was fastened, and was slowly moving ofi. 

Kot wishing to lose even one minute in looking for 
the mule in the morning, I rose up and started to make 
it again secure. I liad moved away three or four paces, 
when I remembered a little piece of advice often given 
me by old Ruff. 


^ ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


79 


“ Frank,” the old hunter would say, “ When you’re out 
in the woods, or on the prairies, never move away from 
your shooting iron. Allcrs keep it within your reach.” 

I turned around-picked up the gun, and again started 
after the mule. When about fiteen paces from it, a man 
suddenly rose from the earth, and leaped onto the mule’s 
back. He had “ sneaked” up, untethered the mule, and 
was leading it away, crawling on the ground, when I had 
been discovered. 

He was now making a bold attempt to rob me of th^ 
only means by which I could reach Marion County, in 
time to be of any use there. 

The night was too dark forme to draw a fine sight, 
but there was a chance to save the mule, and hastily 
throwing the nfle to my shoulder, I fired. 

The man fell headlong to the earth, and Pete, aftei’ 
running for a few yards, stopped, and turned to take an 
observation. 

My first work was to step behind a tree, and reload the 
rifle. 

, Indian horse- thieves always have companions lying in 
wait to assist them. I thought of poisoned arrows, and 
for awhile was expecting to hear a shower of them falling 
around me, but not a sound could be heard, except that 
of Pete, wiv), having satisfied himself that all was right, 
was munching the grass. 

Half an hour later the light of d ay began to appear 
in the east, and I made preparations for resuming my 
journey. 

As day dawned, I went to see the person I had tumbled 
from the mul , an hour before. 

On reaching the body, I was somewhat surprised to see 
that it was not that of a red Indian, but of a young 
negro. The ball had entered tlie left breast, a little be- 
low the heart, and passed through the body. I then re- 
cognized Sam, the young black I had left quarrelling with 
Denman. 

He had undoubtedly * been on his way to join Buck- 
and having come across my camp, could not lose the op- 
portunity of taking the mule to assist him on the remain- 
der of his journey. 

Lying on the ground nearby was Denman’s rifle, which 
Sam had brought away with him. 


80 


THE ADVENTtmES OF 


1 picked it up, and was turning to l&ave, when 1 saw 
the negro’s eyes gazing upon mo. 

They had been closed when I looked at him a minute 
before. 

“ Mas’r Frank,” said he, in a faint voice, as I hastened 
to his side. “ I did’nt know Hwas you, or I should’nt have 
played possum, and made believe I’m dead. I’m gwine 
to die putty soon, Mas’r Frank, but nebba mine. I doan 
blame you at all. Dis sarves me right.” 

I tried to express my regret for what had happened, 
but Sam would not listen to me. 

He wnis a strong-minded youth, and was determined to 
have his own way as much as possible, even while dy- 
ing. * ' 

The fact that, for about an hour, he had remained 
within a few feet of me mortally wounded and dying, 
without my having heard the slightest complaint, proved 
that he was no ordinary person. 

“ Now dir’s dat gun, of Mas’r Denman’s,” said he; “I 
did’nt car about stealin’ dat. ’Taint no good to me no- 
how, but you seel could ’nt guv it to him, caused he’d 
shoot me, so I had to lotch it away.” 

I was nearly frantic with impatience to once more get 
on the way. Sam had started after, and overtaken me 
on foot. The reflection was anything but pleasant. 

“ Sam,” said I, “ don’t you think you could ride on 
the mule 

“ Lew bless yer soul, no Mas’r Frank, he answered, “ I's 
dyin,’ I can’t crawl, or you’d not have seen me here.” 

“ How long do you think you are going to live ?” 

“ About two hours. I die afore noon fer sartin.” 

Then T must leave you/’ 

” Yes ! ob course,” said the negro. “ Why you stop 
heah ? I con die alone just as well. Is you gwine to see 
Mas’r Buck ?” 

“Yes, I want to see him as soon as possible.” 

“ I -wish Mas’r Frank, you’d tell Buck dat I was shot 
for mule stealin’.” 

“ Why r 

“ Cos then he’d know I died of doin’ my duty. I tink 
now mas’r Frank you b^ss be gwine, and let me alone, 
for I’s gittin’ wuss.” 

“ All right Sam,” said I ; “ good bye.” 

Under ordinary circumstances, I would have suffered 
many h ardships, and sacrificed many dear hopes, rathtt 


A57 ABTCANfiAS TBAVELEB. 


St 


than have deserted . a dying fellow creature, but con- 
science and duty left me no two courses of conduct My 
only business was to get to Marion County as soon as 
possible. 

Bam was a noble specimen of the American negro. He 
was humorous, musical, brave and faithiul to those h© 
professed to serve. 

It was a cruel necessity that compelled me to Icnv.’ him 
to die ulone, but it was one I was obliged to obey. 

I now beifan fully to realize the folly I had committed 
in remaining so long with Denman. I had not made 
any allowance for the least delay in my journey, and as a 
punishment for that want of foresight, I must non suffer 
a long and agonizing struggle, and then perhaps reach 
home too late. 


XHB ADYKWXURfiS OF 


8a 


CHAPTER XX. 

A RACE AGAINST TIME. 

On the day of leaving Sam I made a long distance, and 
camped about ten o’clock at night by the side of a small 
‘‘ branch,” where I slept till morning, without being dis 
turbed. 

The next day, about twelve, I was agreeably surprised 
at coming across a small party of white men. 

They were a surveying party, employed by “ Uncle 
Sam” in laying out the land into ranges and sections, 
previous to its being opened for selection or sale. 

I learned from them that about five miles due north a 
party of six horsemen had passed them in the afternoon 
of the day before. From the account they gave, I knew 
the party to be Buck and his companions, and from the 
number I also knew that Rufl was still with the com- 
pany. 

They were not quite a day’s journey ahead of me. 

That night I rode on until nearly midnight, when Pete 
showed a disinclination to proceed any lurther. 

Early in the morning I again started, and about ten 
o'clock reached a ” branch,” on the banks of whicli sev- 
oral people — the most ot them negroes — were working. 

Some one had selected the place as the site of a plan- 



AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


83 


tation, and the negroes were making fences and [jlough. 
ing the land, while some white carpenters were building 
a house for the proprietor. 

At this place I was entertained with some hominy— 
an article of food for which I had been suffering ever 
since I left Little Rock. I also learned there that my 
home was about one hundred miles avray. 

Pete was also well entertained, and given a good teed 
of oats, seasoned with salt. 

In the afternoon and evening I rode about twenty-five 
miles, and was on the road before sunrise the next morn- 
ing. 

That day I expected either to pass or overtake tlie 
party that had left me a few days before. 

Following the advice of the overseer at the plantation. 

I had left the river road, and was saving several miUs by 
crossing a large, barren plain, around which the river 
made a great bend. 

If Buck and Bill crossed the plain also, I might fall in 
with them sometime in the afternoon. It they followed 
the liver, I should not see them until our arrival in the 
neighborhood where my parents resided. 

In the afternoon, when crossing a ravine, used by nature 
as a water-course after a heavy rain, I saw the tracks of 
several horse in the soft ground at the bottom. 

The tracks had not been left there more than two or 
three hours, and I had not the slightest doubt that they 
were made by those I was pursuing. 

The robbers were ahead of me, and Pete was urged to- 
greater speed. 

Nobly the mule did its duty, and wdsely had I acted 
in choosing it as my companion for the journey. A horse 
might have went at a greater speed for a time, Imt its 
powers of endurance against fatigue and hunger were 
not equal to the mule’s. 

Buck, Bill, and those W'ith them were w.ell mounted, 
and had two days in advance of me, yet I had nearly * 
overtaken them by steadily pursuing at a slower pace^ 


THF- ADVEOTURFfi OF 


and taking less time for the weary animal to rest than 
they had done. But Pete was not made of iron, and his 
manner soon began to show it. 

As tile sun went down, I had much c:!usc for anxiety. 
The party I was so anxious to o\'ertake were not yet in 
sight. There was a distance of about twenty-five miles 
to make that night, and Pete was showing unmistakable 
signs of fatigue. 

I dismounted, and ran for two or three miles, making 
him trot by my side. Then I made him carry me about 
five miles further, when the animal stopped, and no en- 
treaties or threats could make it go faster than at a snail’s 
pace. 

I was losing valuable time with it, as I could go much 
faster on foot, than all my exertions could make the ex- 
hausted animal move. 

Had I followed the bend of the river I should have 
been near some plantation, where I could get a horse, but 
I was probably many miles from any such assistance, and 
driven nearly mad by fear and anxiety, I used the heavy 
spurs and the ramrod of the rifle, until poor Pete laid 
down, and I was sure, from the way in which he threw 
himself upon the ground, that he had taken up his lodg- 
ings there for sometime — perhaps forever. 

I took off the saddle and bridle, and left him, carrying 
my own rifle in one hand, and Denman'?, which I had 
taken from Sam, in the other. 

I heard of men running ten miles an hour, and only 
for a few dollars in money. Could I not run half ns fast 
when all that I valued most dear w’as at stake ? 

I was not more than fifteen or sixteen miles from home, 
and I judged the time to be about eight o’clock. 

I had often run for three or four hours through the 
forest following game, and under ordinary circumstaneeg 
I should think but little of the distance now before me. 
Tlie only fear that tortured me now w^as about the time. 

Should I anive soon enough to Ixj of any awistance to 
Ruff ? I could only try, and I did tiy. 


AN ABKANSAfi TRAVELER. 


86 


The moon rose about an hour after I left Pete,' and - 1 
recognized, not far away, a high, sugar-loaf shaped hil], 
which I had seen before. I had chased a herd of deer 
around it not a year past. 

I was thirsty and very weary, but the sight of a piepe 
of earth I had visited from my early home, revived me 
instantly, but only lor a time. 

My long, fatiguing journey would be in vain unless I 
reached homejthat night, and by twelve o’clock. 

I should never forgive mysell should I arrive home a 
minute too late, and knowing this, exerted myself to the 
utmost 

I walked fast, and ran fast, and occasionally varied 
those gaits by running slowly in a “ dog-trot.” 

At last I became so weary that it was with much e*er 
tion that I could put one foot before the other. 

Something told me that I was completely exhausted— 
that I could only get a few hundred yards further that 
night, and that I might only be doing myself a mortal 
injury by going even that distance at present. 

It was only weary animal-nature that told me this, but 
I had the counsel of something more high and noble than 
that. 

Another spirit whispered, “ Go on,” and reason echoed 
the command by telling me that my powers of endurance 
were not yet exhausted, and would not be for many 
years — not until conquered by the ” King of Tcrroi-s.” 

“My physical powers cannot be exhausted in less than 
a second,” thought I, “ and if I am able to move in one 
instant, nothing but God alone can prevent me fuom mov- 
ing the next.” 

God did not prevent me, and I staggered on. 

An hour later, and I reached a belt ol timber, and found 
a path leading through it to the left. 

I followed the path through the wood until I reached 
cleared and cultivated fields, and knew that I was near 
the river. 

The fields were soon crossed, and some buildings were 


86 


THIS AD TUBES OP 


•before me. They had a familiar look, and I recognized 
them as- belonging to Mr. Shelby, my father’s nearest 
. neighbor. I was but little more than a mile from home. 

Buck and Bill were still ahead of me, and God only 
knows the homble agony I suffered under the fear that 
the day I had passed on going south with Denman had 
been fatal to my future earthly happiness. Common sense 
and experience should have told me that I would prob- 
ably meet with some delay in overtaking Euflf. 


CHAPTER XXL 

AT THE RENDEZVOTTB, 

A WALK of a few minutes brought me to the “ cross 
roads,” and in front of the ruins, that were once “ Old 
Barton’s Store.” 

But a few yards away I heard voices, and drawing near" 
er, I recognised Buck, and hastened forward. 

Three men mounted on horses, were standing a little 
distance from the main road, and as I walked up to them, 
all turned toward me, as though I had been eagerly ex- 
pected. 

“ What does this mean ?” exclaimed Buck, in a sharp 
tone, that told me my explanation must be made quick 
and satisfactory. 

“ Denman has bolted to Texas with everything, and I 
have come to tell you.” I replied. 

“ Curse you, and Denman too,” yelled the angry thief 
“ Why did’nt you shoot him ? You are as bad as he is. 
Do you mean to say that all the niggers joined him ? 

«Yes.” 

“ I don’t believe you. If you are telling the truth, 
then I’m an idiot— as big a fool as a tame turkey, that 


AN ARKANSAB T;BAVELER. 


87 


thinks man is his slave. Yon don’t mean to say that 
Sam has deserted me ?” 

. “ No, not Sam,” I replied, when reminded ol the faith- 
ful negro, who had fallen by my hands. “ He would not 
go with Denman, and was shot.” 

“ That’s better,” exclaimed Buck in a lower tone. “ Fd 
rather hear thah he was dead, than that he hau stolen 
himself from me. Denman is a fool, and shall die with- 
out a heart in his carcass. He can’t escape me in Texas ; 
Fve too many friends thar, for that.” 

Buck now remained silent, and I inquired of one ot 
the other men, for Bill and the rest of the party. 

“ We are waiting for ’em,” answered the man. “ They’ll 
be here in a few minutes. We separated at sunset, so as 
not to look suspicious, and agreed to meet here, as soon 
as we could. 

“ Unless all are here within a few minutes, we sh'sill do 
nothing now, but wait until to-morrow night.” 

I also learnt from the man that they had been disap- 
pointed in not meeting Lazy Joe — one of my father’s 
slaves, who had promised to assist them. 

I was undecided how to act, through the uncertainty 
ot where the ruffain Bill might be. 

It was possible that he might visit my father’s house 
before appearing at the rendezvous. This idea made me 
impatient to hasten home, but I saw no way of getting off 
without exciting th e suspicion of Buck. 

Although confident that Ruff would do his duty, 
still the time had now arrived, when I was anxious to 
have my eyes on Bill, and to keep them there until his 
were closed in dea-th. 

While waiting impatiently for a few minutes to see 
whether he woukit soon join his companions or not, I 
learnt from the man who had just been talking to me, 
that the attack on the planters was to commence about 
two o’clock that morning, and that they would first begin 
at Rosebrook’s, (my father’s) plantation, and march up 


88 


THU ADVENTUBES OF 


the river, destroying everything they did not take or 
driv^ away. 

We were not to commence until Bill and Ruff joined 
us,” continued the m'an, “ and they must soon be bere»’ 
for I think from the height of the moon, that it must be 
more than an hour past midnight.” 

“ Frank,” said Buck, “ you’ve got two rifles, whar did 
you get the second ?” * 

I had held the two guns close together, trying to pre- 
vent the discovery he had made, but the sharp eyes of 
Buck had detected the two, and the affair, to his shrewd, 
suspicious nature demanded an investigation. 

I would not tell him that the rifle was Denman’s, for 
he would blame me for allowing an unarmed man to 
drive oft' the property, while I stood lookind on with two 
rifles in ray possession. 

I was afraid to tell him the truth, for he might instant, 
ly kill me for the death of Sam, upon whom he placed 
a high value. 

I was in a quandary, and silent. 

“Whar did you get that rifle, 1 ask you ?” shouted 
Buck, in a tone that told me his curiosity or suspicion 
must be satisfied immediately, or there would be war be- 
tween us. 

“ Mas’r Buck, is da t you ?” exclaimed a voice on the 
opposite side of way. “ Come on Mas’r Harry ; Bless de 
lor, it’s Buck.” 

The voice was that of “ Ole Block,” whom I had last 
seen trampled under the horse’s feet, and left for dead. 

All eyes were turned from me to the negro crossing 
^he road. Two seconds more and I was over the fence 
into a field of growing maize, that hid me from view. 

I first thought of home, and ran a few paces in that 
direction. Then occurred the thought, that I was leav 
ing Old Ruff to be murdered. He was each moment ex‘ 
pected with Bill, an d by the time they arrived. Buck 
would have learnt from Harry Barton, that Ruff and It 
were traitors to the company. 


AN ARKANSAS TRATELflR, 


Not expecting this, Ruff would ride up, and be in- 
stantly killed, without having a chance of defending 
himself. 

This would not do, and I turned and hastened as silently 
«s possible in the other way. 

The ground over which I ran was soft — the com haying 
lately been “ hoed,” and the rustling of the leaves as l 
disturbed them in running along the row, was but a little 
louder than that caused by the breeze as it whistled 
throush the grain. 


90 


IHE APYBNXURaH OV 


( 


[CHAPTER XXIL 

SURPRISED WITH DEARTH. 

I WAS in some doubt whether to regret the return of 
Harry Barton -and “ Old Block” or not. Their arrival, 
at the moment it occurred, certainly assisted me from a 
serious difficulty which I was getting into with Buck 
about the rifle, but it had also been the means ot warn- 
ing him, that in his attempt to pillage the neighborhood, 
he would meet with the opposition of two who had long 
known his plans, and who were scheming to prevent their 
accompli sh ment. 

I was intending to wait until I saw some harm about 
to be done to me or mine, but it was timpe that intention 
was realized now. 

Buck had learned that I was a son of William Rose- 
brook, a man marked by the gang for death. Bill, his 
wolfish companion, would soon learn the same thing, and 
I must now act when an opportunity was presented for 
doing so. Old Ruff must not be sacrificed to his faith, 
ti.' friendship to my family, and a doubt crossed my 
mind as to whether I had done right in bolting into the 
corn-fieldj and escaping without letting the moonlight 
into Buck’s head, through a bullet*hole, before leaving. 

“II any harm should happen through this neglect,’» 
thought I, “ I shall never torgive myseli tor having lived 
in vain.” 

I had not crone more than two hundred yards along th® 


AN ARKANSAS TRAVELER. 


91 


corn-field before I heard horsesgalloping along the road, 
coming up alongside of me. 

I was being pursued. 

More horsemen were coming from the opposite direc- 
tion. The two parties would meet opposite me. 

“Perhaps,” thought I, “those coming from up the 
river are Bill and Ruif,” and I hastened to the fence. 

Something seemed to tell me that the moment lor 
which I had long been waiting had nearly arrived. My 
heart beat strong and wildly. 

Several times during the last twenty-four hours I had 
been strongly tempted to throw away Denman’s rifie, but 
the thought that it might be useful prevented me. 

On reaching the fence, I leaned it against the rails, and 
guided more by instinct than reason^ prepared to use my 
own. 

At that moment the two parties of horsemen met, and 
were exactly opposite where I was standing by the fence, 
and but a few feet from me. 

I recognized Ruff and Bill, and those who had met 
them as Buck and another of the company. Buck was 
bringing his rifle to his shoulder, with the muzzle pointed 
towards Ruff. 

I had his head already covered, and with the barrel of 
my rifle resting on the fence. 

The trigger was pulled. 

It was a murderous shot — firing at the head of a 
human being with a rifle at rest, and only at a distance 
of six paces, but Fate commanded it to be given, for he 
was about to kill my old friend in the same manner. 

Without looking to see the result of the shot, I seized 
Denman’s rifle, and presenting it at Bill, fired. 

Two horses galloped away with empty saddles. 

Two others were ridden off at a rapid pace by fright- 
ened men — weak-minded creatures, who had been led to 
engage in an unsuccessful enterprise by Buck and Bilb 
who could now guide them no more. 

All the fatigue I had endured for the last three days — 


TiTE A]DYF,JfTURFS OF 


all the suffering from thirst— all the mental anxiety, fever 
and agony, seemed to produce their evil effects upon me 
at once. 

Had Buck and Bill been alive, I could have traveled on 
foot to find them for many hours longer without food or 
water, and could have endured the mental torture of the 
last few hours without either mind or body yielding, but 
now, when I believed all danger to be over, all strength, 
physical and mental, seemed to leave me, and I became 
as helpless as a child. 

All I wanted was rest — rest of soul and body, which 
Ruff would not allow me to have. 

He would worry me with questions. 

There was but one question which I thought concomep 
either of us. That related to Buck and Bill. 

“Are they dead,” I asked, “quite dead 

“Yes,” he replied, “ dead as the skunks that sailed 
with Noah, and it’s doubtful which soul lust reached its 
eternal home. 

I wished to say and hear no more, but Ruff would 
wony me. He wants me to go home — a journey of more 
than a mile — which I could not have performed to save 
my life. 

Stretching myself on the long grass, growing in one of 
the corners of the “ snake fence,” I felt more happy than 
I had ever done before. 

The freedom from anxiety, and the relief from the tre- 
mendous exertions I had lately been making, made earth 
a paradise, and my present happiness cheap at the price 
of all I had suffered. 

“ Why didn’t you wait, Frank, until they tried to do 
some harm ?” asked Ruff. “ It don’t look fa’r what 
you’ve done. Some people may say it’s murder.” 

“ Should I have waited one second longer, until Buck 
had shot you ?” I asked. 

“ What was Buck gwyne to thoot me for ?” asked Ruff* 

“ I sor his shootin’-iron stickin’ to’rds me, but I thort he 
hadn’t seen W’ho I was.’’ 


A27 ABEAlffSAB TBAW’SIER. 


9t 

** He had just left Harry Barton and * Old Block,’ the 
negro.” 

This was all I remember of saving, for the next Instant 
I was in a sound slumber. 

On awaking, I found that a saddle was under c.y 
head, Ruft’s blanket was spread over me — the bright 
morning sun was shining, and by my side stood my father 
and Ruffl 

“ Frank,” said the old gentleman, as ho stooped down 
and took my hand, “ when I learned that you had at* 
sconded from Little Rock, and gone to the prairies, I 
swore that you should be my son no longer. That oath 
is broken now, and from this hour you shall never offend 
me again.” 

“ I’ve allers told you. Squire,” said Ruff, “ that Frank 
was the best young feller in the world, but I believe it’s 
the fashion now-a-days for parents to be onacquamted 
with thar own sons.” 

I found, on rising to my feet, that my bones and mus- 
Aes were a little the worse for my long race the night 
before, but otherwise I was quite well. I had qeeded a 
little repose — nothing more. 

Buck and Bill had fallen beside each other. Neither 
could have suffered much — the first being shot through 
the head, the latter through the heart. 

“I remember both of these men,” said my father. “Foj. 
a long time they were the terror of all respectable people 
in the county. They came here because they had been 
driven from some outraged community, and we had no 
peace until we also drove them out. “ This one,” con, 
tinned my father, ‘‘ swore that he would come back some, 
time and murder me, and it appears that he had honesty 
enough to try and keep his word.” 

“ It would have done you good. Squire,” said Ruff, “it 
you had seen ’em last night lyin’ on the ground, and 
kickin’ thurselves, jest as though it was done for spite.’ 

My father was now anxious for me to return home. 

“None of the rest of the family know that you (ire 


94 


THE ADVENT UEE3 OP 


here,” said he, “or they would have all been here, un. 
dressed. Our friend, Ruflf, would only have me dis- 
turbed.” 

“ What has become ol Lazy Joe ?” I asked. 

“Lazy Joe died last week, of the cholera,” answered 
my father, and I believe he died happy at the idea that 
he was cheating me out of the money that I might have 
Sold him for.” 


AR JLiiULa l'KAJ:{AYiiX££. 


95 


CHAPTER XXin. 

CONCLUSION. 

My first business, on reaching home, (as soon as my 
mother and sisters would let me perform it,) was to send 
two black boys after Pete, the mule. 

I told them the road, or path to follow, and described 
the sugar-loaf hill, beyond which I had left the mule 
lying, and bade them never to return, without bringing 
the animal with them. 

During the day all the neighbors for five miles around, - 
were mounted, and out man-hunting. 

The result of this grand hunt was the capture of 
Harry Barton, “Ole Block,” and the ugly cur that foL 
lowed them. 

Ruff and I went to have a look at them, when they 
were brought in, and three more miserable objects we 
had never seen. Harry had a bullet in his body, for 
which he was indebted to Ruff, at the time they parted 
on the prairies. From his emaciated appearance, and the 
hoarse whisper in which he addressed me, I believed 
the wound to be mortal. 

The attempt of Buck, Bill, and others to kill “Ole 
Block,” only resulted in breaking some of his ribs, crush, 
ing one of his longheels, knocking out one of his eye s^ 
and doing some other little injuries, which Block said 
were not “ wuth lookin’ affer,” 


96 


THE AHVBNTUBKS OE 


The dog was still carrying the same wounded leg we 
had seen him take away, three weeks before. 

The three were nearly starved to death, and Harry 
informed mo that they had not lost an hour more than 
was necessary, in coming from the place where we had 
left them, 

I had thought that my journey was one of many hard- 
ships, but it was a delig-htful one, compared with their-s* 
They had been nearly tiiree weeks ia coming one hun- 
dred miles, and never had been able to make more thati 
six or seven miles in a day by toiling on the road fo^ 
sixteen hours. 

“ I should never have got here, but for Ole Block.” 
said Harry. “ He sought for me when unable to stand, 
and crawled on all fours until he found me. He crawled 
to the brook, and brought me water. 

The next day we commenced our journey, and moved 
slowly on in great agony, until night came upon us, and 
I don’t believe we made a distance of more than two 
miles. Who says I’m not a man — one who cannot suflfoT 
anything for the accomplishment of an object ?” 

“ No one will say so,” I replied, ” but what 'was you*" 
object in suffering so much in hastening here ?” 

“ So as to be here in time. I knew there would be strange 
scenes here, and I wanted to see what they would be 
like.” 

” I suppose you have learnt,” said I, “that the long, 
planned attack of robbers and thieves, on the I'especta- 
ble planters of this neighborhood, has ended in the death 
of Buck and Bill ?” 

“ Yes, and I was happy to hear of it. They deserved 
a worse death,” 

“ But I thought they were your confederates. Would 
you not have been pleased, had they succeeded in the 
ol^ject of their journey ?” 

“Yes, certainly, for I wanted to go with them to 
Texas. 

Old Kuff was q\»te right in the explanations he had 


▲IT AltEAlTSAft TRALSR. 


97 


giyen of Harry’s conduct. The youth was not a respon- 
sible being. The explanation ot what seemed an unac- 
countable mystery, was so simple, that I had not discov- 
ered it. 

In the morning, the “ boys” returned, leading the mule, 
Pete, with them. 

The poor animal was stiff in all its joints, and only 
able to hobble along, with much difficulty. I never r<: 
quired any more service of Pete, since then, but have 
allowed him to remain a pensioner on my industry, and 
had him well looked after. 

Old Ruff, in praising my generosity, has been known to 
say, that I have “kept the mule like a gentleman.” 

Being well acquainted with his way of talking, I knew 
that by the word gentleman, he meant the mu e. 

Aftei my trip to the prairies, I became a favorite with 
all the young ladies of the county. 

There was but one little fact that counted against me 
in their estimation of my character. It was that the old 
ladies spoke well of me, also. 

This was not at all in my favor, with the young ones, 
for the “ model young man” of Arkansas mothers, is gen- 
erally looked upnn as a weak minded, harmless noodle, 
by their more highly educated daughters. 

This, however, was not the opinion of one fair i\rkan- 
sas lass of me; for two years after the events I have en- 
deavored to describe — , one of them took me for “ better 
or worse.” 

It was Miss Mary Shelby, who, in becoming my wife, 
only fulfilled a promise she had made, when a child. 

I have become w'hat is called a “rcrpcctable planter.” 
This is a vague definition, but it would require a volumnc 
to describe, to most readers of the English language what 
that term implies, and I cannot attempt it here. 

Old Ruff is with me, making himself generally useful 
on the plantation, and occasionally grumbling about the 
curses civilization and improvement bring upon a 
country. 


98 


THE ADVENTURES OP 


As his eyes are not so good as they once were, he has 
had to relinquish his rifle for a fowling-piece, it being 
the best for pigeon shooting. This change was made 
with much reluctance for the reason that in his opinion^ 
shooting with a shot gun, is an English, and unmanly 
way of seeking amuseriient. 

Harry Barton was tried for the murder of his uncle* 
and sentenced to be imprisoned as a criminal lunatic 
but died on the way to the prison. 

“ Ole Block,” was also tried for an accomplice to the 
murder, but it appeared that he knew nothing of the 
deed, until after it was committe d. His trial resulted in 
a decision, that he was no more responsible than a faith- 
ful dog. His only fault was that he would obey a mas- 
ter either good or bad. No planters would condemn a 
^ervant for that, and Block was allowed to retire into 
private life. He has ever since been a servant on Mr 
Shelby’s plantation. 

On the day after Mary and I were married, “ Ole Block 
invited the two families to meet him at the ruins of Old 
Barton’s Store. In the cellar, with one minutes work, he 
showed us an iron pot containing five thousand dollars, 
and several papers, and amongst them a will. 

Mr. Barton had left all his property to his niece, Mary 
Shelby, on condition, that .she did not marry her cousin^ 
Henry Barton. 

“ Dis money is what Massa Harry went mad for,” said 
Block, as we were returning to Mr. Shelby’s house. He 
could not find the money no whar, and was obliged to go 
to the woods instead of New Orleans.” 

“ And did you know all this time that the money was 
buried where you found it ?” I asked. 

“ No not edzactly,” he replied, “ but a few days afore 
he was killed, I kuowed he buried somethin’ in the cel- 
lar, because I seed him do it, and it just occtiyed to me 
yesterday, that it might have been the money.” 

It was fortunate for me that this idea was so long in 
reaching' an understanding. 


AN ABKANSAS TOAVELEB. 


99 


The story of my life is told. 

Very well, but why call it The Arkansas Traveler ?*’ 
the reader may ask. 

My answer to that is, that I have traveled a little in 
Arkansas, and no where else, and that I have not the 
slightest intention of ever moving beyond the bound a 
ries of my Native State. 


THE END. 



4 


Now is tlio tim 


',3 


roil 






9 

AXD ABLY- 



TIIPJ HANDSOMEST, :M0ST ENTERTAIXTNG, 

COXDUOTED PAPEIl IX 'J HE _ . '- 

In Its columns wiil bo lonrni iwany Livalauble Treasures in tlie Domain of 

Romance, Poetry, History, Adventrre, Humor, 

and, in fact, a clioice variety of GEMS in ov('ry dofyartment of LITERATU 
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Price, in New York, 6c. Per Copy. 

One of the ino.st valuable peculir.ritAs of T!’E EIRESIDE COMPANION 
is, that ivliile many of tiie Sioiics are wi irten \vi li a view lo General Interest 
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“ Reading for Little Folks.” 

The coriis of V\'rirers for THE FIRESIDE GOIMPAXIOX comprises many 
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MRS.Sr'axnn IlAvnt; x, 
lA'CY B.XNDALL CO.MFORT, 
Mamy KEKI) CUOW'ELL, 
Eva Evekoueex, 

IDciniccA FonuBS, 

Pen ro.MAi:TE, 

Eva a MCE. 
j'iAUV .1. Wl.VES, 

.1 \V. .’VlAClCEA', 

\\'’Ai.noni’ 11. Phillips, 
M.uoi: ai.mvk, 

W. 11. Not; HIS, 


ArcusTix Daly, 

G \pr. Caj!LKT(!N, 

Go UR’" 0 ’LaM'.S, 

Dk. .lupiTKK Paeon, 
Kog.ik St AR crcK, 
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Meswaho Pnti.p, 

'i'llE “OM) ’I HAPPER,” 
F. Go WAN, 
llvRKV li.'.ZI.ETON, 

■\V. Gl. MOKM SiM.ns, 
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GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 118 William St., jST. Y. 
P. O. Box 5G57. 


2 . 

3 P.nu 

4 Fu<ritiv . 

tains. 

5 Track of Fire. 

C Man-Eaters. 

7 (Jliarlotte Temple. 

8 Doath Face, 

9 Indian Slayer. 

10 'I’lirtle-Catchor. 

11 Hunter’s Triumph. 

12 Ocean Hovers. 

13 Tory Outwittial. 

14 Zeke Sternum. 

1.5 ScouriTo of tlie Se.as 

16 C.u)ti \'0 Maiden. 

17 I.oni^-ijeir'j-j.d .Joe. 

13 Wil 1 Scout of the Moun- 
tains. 

19 Forest Lodee. 

20 lioliickiiur HanErers. 

21 Hattlesn:i'<e Dick. 
22^].;^"keltv 'i'om, the Hover 
23'lmps tlio Prairie. 

24 Hobiwv's 'i'lTror. 

25 .Joe, tiie “ Sarpbit.” 

26 Liijlittoot, the. Scout. 

27 <Iiant S[)y of Hunker Hill 
2S Scar Creek, tlie Wi.d 

Half-r.reed. 

29 Sipunt-Fve'l P.ol). 

30 ' .laky Samlrrass, 

31 Hoilin r i’ll under : or tlie- 

Hiv.il 'V:ir Chiefs. 

32 Heavy ilatciiet the Held 

Scout. 

.33 Slv Sa n. the Q i.a’cer Spy 
3t Tliri'o Diriat I'rappers. 

35 F.ital Mark vuian. 

36 lvic'''‘-Pv’ed'Z'. kiv 
3t liiLT lidl'* 77 

38 Ihdd Sea' p- Hu lifer 

39 'I'ory Spv. 

40 ih-airic .Jak''. 

41 We lit 1 and JP'auly. 

42 H )ver of the Fun-st . 

43 Ciallt of 1 ;h* W'd d->. 

44 C-aze rmpfiiua 

45 Lion-llearte I Iluntyr. 

46 Cl'l .Jim (if tlie Woods. 

47 .Mad Mike. 

43 White- Hoaih^d Humer. 
49 r>i^-l learte.l .Joe. 

.50 Scout of Lour l-'an I. I 

51 Silvi rhoel'. t lie D.-aivarel 

52 1>1 ick l>ill, the 'l'ia|):.c". j 

53 Hell Men ot the Wood-*. | 

54 (JiMii Dick. the 0;ie-li}edl 

Hohlier. I 


.. .e order MUNRO’S. and see that “MUNKO” 
s on the cover. 

PEN GENT NOVELS. 


Indian Queen’s Revenge. 


107 Red Hattiesnake. 


Oid Scout of the Cave. 
7 Rtor finake^ the Huron. 


103 Black Sampson 
109 Uirly ike. 

" TMAL- 


crer. 



□ □omti557as 


GI 


go; 

61 
62 
03 

64 

65 

66 

67 

63 Clumsy Foot. 

69 Strana^er's Grave. 

70 Mad ISancy. tiie Fen:.an 

Fortune-Teller. 

71 Long R tie Hunter. 

72 Woodeii-Lc<r!,’’e(l Spy. 

73 T.ong L<“irs,t he Squatter. 

74 Black Projihet. 

75 Old Norte, ttio Hunter. 

76 'l iger-Fye. 

77 R voluiionary Joe. 

73 Jack, BulPrlo-Catcher. 

79 Tom Tiirhiri, Trappi'r. 

80 Scout of tlio St. Law- 

rence. 

SI Leather Logs, 

82 Bloody Brook. 

83 W(df-.''layer. 

St Long Boil. 

S5 Cooncy Bush. 

86 Roliiu Hood and hh 

Mercy Men. 

87 Spv of the Dclawar 
83 ‘’Old Kit,” Scout. 

89 Hank Wiggins, Esq. 

90 Spider L(*gs. 

91 Old 'I’rappor’s Pride. 

92 Marksman, the Hunter. 

93 Grizzly Jake. 

9 1 Spotted Dan. 

95 The Bloody Footprint 
or, Tlie Ad veil til res of 
a N(‘W York Nnwsliov. 

96 011 Huhe. the 'I'rapper. 

97 Big-.Moiitlied 'J'rapper. 
!'S 1 ’.III tiler Jake. 

99 Snake- Eye, or tlio Ban- 
dit Miiler. 

105 01 1 Nick id' the Swamp. 
191 C.iHice.ock ot the Santee. 
n2 (>l 1 Z 'ke. 

1.13 liog l'kieo. 

1 9 t .S ,;ti-p Snout. 

19.5 Tii.-iMi'iii-a Sam. 

196 ' h 'll Jim. 

I 



I'ZiS i llliuu:<rK 

123 Handd of r.iie Hills. 

124 'I'exasJoo. 

125 Creole Forger — By Capt. 

Mayne Heid. 

126 Red Star of the Semi- 

noles. 

127 Bullct-He.ad. 

123 liumerZel). 

129 Scoutof the Sciota. 

139 Forest Hunters. 

131 iM.id Betsey. 

132 I iidiaii Stratagem. 

133 P.de-Face Indian. 

13 1 White Savage. 

135 Witch of the Swamp. 

136 Old Paul. 

137 1 1 untcr’s Secret. 

138 Rival Cnptains. 

139 L'ttle Foot 'Praiip' r. 

149 Wild Ride. ^ 

141 Roving Dick, Hunti t . 

142 Fighting Nat. 

143 Hunter of the B'ack 

Hills. 

144 The Indian Siiii it. 

145 Iron-IIandeii Trajiper. 

146 Hunt rs and Rcd.-kins. 

147 'Pile Trapper’s Cave. 

143 Pa me I Paleface. 

149 B lly Bowlegs. 

159 Owl Face, the Pawin-e. 

151 Sm ill Pu.\ Dave. 

152 The Wafetiful Hunter. 

153 Fire (’loud. 

154 Frontier Hunter. 

155 Hunter Seoiii.s. 

156 Tlie Silent Trapper. 

157 Tlie Sliadow Scout. 

158 Lantern-Jawed Uob.c ' 

150 The Shawnee Wiicli, 

169 Trapper Joe. 

161 O’lie Mountain Demon. 
192 Old Beil IVooiley. 

.163 The Red Sprite, 


/, 


MUNRO, 

118 V'7illiam Street, N. Y. 


